Julien Clerc — Les Vendredis song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Les Vendredis" by Julien Clerc.
Lyrics
Je faisais partie
Du cercle des amis
Qui se tenait le vendredi
Quand le couvert était mis, était mis
Nous parlions de Chopin
De son curieux destin
Et des autres salons voisins
A l’ennui trop malsain, trop malsain
Et le jeune pianiste jouait
Tout ce qu’il voulait
Sauf l’envolée des walkyries
Qui faisait trop de bruit, trop de bruit
Il y avait là
Quelques femmes du monde
Et un peintre parfois connu
Qui faisait rire son monde, rire son monde
On aimait les cartes des jeux
Entre nous bien entendu
Et l’on ne trichait plus
Chacun se croyait heureux, croyait heureux
Et le jeune pianiste jouait
Tout ce qu’il pouvait
Sauf le Prélude Attristant
Qui navrait trop de gens, trop de gens
Il y avait toujours
Quelque chose à fêter
Tout au long de l’année
Les occasions étaient bonnes, étaient bonnes
L’alcool était meilleur
La maison était chaude
Nous partions pour ailleurs
Dans le matin souillé, matin souillé
Et le jeune pianiste dormait
La tête sur son clavier
Surpris par le sommeil
Au crépuscule des dieux, des dieux, des dieux
Lyrics translation
I was part of
From the circle of friends
Who was held on Friday
When the cutlery was put, was put
We were talking about Chopin.
Of his curious fate
And other neighboring salons
To boredom too unhealthy, too unhealthy
And the young pianist played
Everything he wanted
Except the flight of the walkyries
That made too much noise, too much noise
There was there
Some women of the world
And a painter sometimes known
Who made his world laugh, laugh his world
We liked the cards of the games
Between us of course
And we didn't cheat anymore
Everyone thought they were happy, thought they were happy
And the young pianist played
All he could
Except the saddening prelude
Who saddened too many people, too many people
There was always
Something to celebrate
Throughout the year
The opportunities were good, were good
Alcohol was better
The house was warm
We're going somewhere else
In the morning dirty, morning dirty
And the young pianist was asleep
Head on his keyboard
Surprised by sleep
At dusk gods, gods, gods