Thomas Fersen — Pommes, pommes, pommes song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Pommes, pommes, pommes" by Thomas Fersen.
Lyrics
Pommes, pommes, pommes
C’est l’automne
Si monotone.
C’est triste, triste, triste
Les feuilles mortes
Les flaques d’eau
Le vent dans la ruelle qui emporte les journaux.
Boulogne
C’est de saison
Les enfants
Ramassent des marrons.
En caressant l’automne
Un balayeur fredonne:
«Pommes, pommes, pommes…
Oh mon amour
Le jour viendra
O tu refleuriras. «La nuit tombe.
On s’tonne:
Ces feuilles sur le sol
Et oui, c’est l’automne.
Un homme sans toit
Occupe un banc de bois.
On le montre aux enfants qui n’obissent pas.
C’est l’automne
C’est l’automne
Et, de temps en temps
L’hiver montre ses dents
Et la nuit, sous les ponts
On gle jusqu’au trognon
De pomme, pomme, pomme.
Lyrics translation
Apples, apples, apples
It's autumn
It's monotonous.
It's sad, sad, sad
The fallen leaves
Puddles
The wind in the alley that carries the newspapers.
Boulogne
It's seasonal
Child
Pick up chestnuts.
Caressing autumn
A sweeper hums:
"Apples, apples, apples…
Oh my love
The day will come
Or you will reflect. "Night falls.
We're on fire.:
These leaves on the ground
And yes, it's autumn.
A man without a roof
Occupies a wooden bench.
We show it to children who don't get it.
It's autumn
It's autumn
And, from time to time
Winter shows its teeth
And at night, under the bridges
We gle to the core
Apple, Apple, Apple.