Patrice — En veston jaune song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "En veston jaune" by Patrice.
Lyrics
Quand la neige de décembre voltigeait sur les chaumières
Que de contes, que de fables nous racontait mon grand-père.
Il savait les mille histoires qui cheminent sur la Terre.
La plus belle était l’image qui chantait un grand amour.
C’est du cœur d’un doux poète qu’un matin, elle naquit
La voici, naïve et tendre, aussi fraîche que jadis.
En veston jaune et pantalon bleu pervenche
Dans sa calèche, il venait le dimanche.
Dans la grand-rue, l’attendait, rose et blanche
Mademoiselle Isabelle, son amour.
Trottinant sans trop de zèle, la jument faisait leur bonheur
A l’abri sous une ombrelle
En cadence battaient leurs cœurs.
A vingt ans, comme tant d’autres, il dut quitter son Isabelle
En jurant à son amour de lui rester toujours fidèle.
Tous les jours, il lui cueillait les fleurs nouvelles les plus belles
Qu’il jetait dans la rivière qui passait au cher pays.
Et les fleurs de ce poète, naviguant au fil de l’eau
Apportaient à Isabelle le message le plus beau.
En veston jaune et pantalon bleu pervenche
Dans sa calèche, il viendra le dimanche.
Dans la grand-rue, l’attendra, rose et blanche
Mademoiselle Isabelle, son amour.
Trottinant sans trop de zèle, la jument fera leur bonheur
A l’abri sous une ombrelle
En cadence battront leurs cœurs.
Et, plus tard, à la chapelle
Un curé bénit leur amour.
Cette histoire est éternelle
Chantez-la à votre tour.
Lyrics translation
When the December snow fluttered on the stubble
What Tales, what fables my grandfather told us.
He knew the thousand stories that walk on Earth.
The most beautiful was the picture that sang a great love.
It was from the heart of a sweet poet that one morning she was born
Here she is, naive and tender, as fresh as she used to be.
In yellow jacket and periwinkle blue pants
In his carriage, he came on Sundays.
In the high street, waited for him, pink and white
Miss Isabelle, her love.
Trotting without too much zeal, the mare was happy
Sheltered under an umbrella
In cadence beat their hearts.
At twenty, like so many others, he had to leave his Isabelle
By swearing to his love to remain faithful to him forever.
Every day he picked her the most beautiful new flowers
Which he threw into the river that passed to the dear country.
And the flowers of this poet, sailing along the water
Brought Isabelle the most beautiful message.
In yellow jacket and periwinkle blue pants
In his carriage, he will come on Sunday.
In the High Street, will wait for him, pink and white
Miss Isabelle, her love.
Trotting without too much zeal, the mare will make their happiness
Sheltered under an umbrella
In cadence will beat their hearts.
And, later, to the chapel
A priest blesses their love.
This story is eternal
Sing it in your turn.