Georges Brassens "La chasse aux papillons" lyrics

Translation to:enit

La chasse aux papillons

Un bon petit diable à la fleur de l'âge,La jambe légère et l'oeil polisson,Et la bouche pleine de joyeux ramages,Allait à la chasse aux papillons.

Comme il atteignait l'orée du village,Filant sa quenouille, il vit Cendrillon,Il lui dit: "Bonjour, que Dieu te ménage,Je t'emmène à la chasse aux papillons."

Cendrillon, ravie de quitter sa cage,Met sa robe neuve et ses bottillons;Et bras dessus bras dessous vers les frais bocagesIls vont à la chasse aux papillons.

Ils ne savaient pas que, sous les ombrages,Se cachait l'amour et son aiguillon,Et qu'il transperçait les coeurs de leur âge,Les coeurs des chasseurs de papillons.

Quand il se fit tendre, elle lui dit: "Je présageQue c'est pas dans les plis de mon cotillon,Ni dans l'échancrure de mon corsage,Qu'on va-t-a la chasse aux papillons."

Sur sa bouche en feu qui criait: "Sois sage!"Il posa sa bouche en guise de bâillon,Et ce fut le plus charmant des remue-ménageQu'on ait vu de mémoire de papillon.

Un volcan dans l'âme, ils revinrent au village,En se promettant d'aller des millions,Des milliards de fois, et même d'avantage,Ensemble à la chasse aux papillons.

Mais tant qu'ils s'aimeront, tant que les nuagesPorteurs de chagrins, les épargneront,Il fera bon voler dans les frais bocages,Ils feront pas la chasse aux papillons.Pas la chasse aux papillons.

The butterfly hunt

A good little devil in the prime of life,Light-footed and mischievous,And the mouth full of joyous warblings,Went to the butterfly hunt.

As he reached the outskirts of the village,Spinning her distaff, he saw Cinderella,He said to her: "Hello, may God preserve you,I'm taking you to the butterfly hunt."

Cinderella, glad to leave her cage,Puts on her new dress and her bootees;And arm in arm towards the fresh bocagesThey're going to the butterfly hunt.

They did not know that, under the shades,Love was hiding with his sting,And that he was piercing the hearts of their age,The hearts of the butterfly hunters.

When he became tender, she said: "I reckonIt is not in the folds of my petticoat,Nor in the neckline of my bodice,That one goes to the butterfly hunt."

On her mouth on fire wich cried : "Be wise!"He put his mouth acting as a gag,And it was the most charming agitationEver seen in the memory of butterflies.

A volcano in their soul, they came back to the village,While promising to go many millions,Billions of times, and even more,Together to the butterfly hunt.

But as long as they love one another, as long as the cloudsBringer of sorrow, spare them,It will be safe to fly in the fresh bocages1,They won't do the butterfly hunt.Not the butterfly hunt.

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