C'est écrit [English translation]

She will make you change the course of the clouds,

Sweep away your prospects, aging well before your age,

You will loose her a hundred times in the mists of ports,

It is written...

She will come back wounded in the parfumes of an other,

You will hear yourself yell "to hell with her"

She will want you to forgive, and you will forgive,

It is written...

She isn't getting out of your memory

Neither at night, nor the day,

She dances behind fogs

And you, you're searching and running.

You will pray up until the hours where nobody's listening,

You will empty all the bars she will put on your path,

You will spend all those nights looking outside.

It is written...

She isn't getting out of your memory

Neither at night, nor the day,

She dances behind fogs

And you, you're searching and running.

But there is no love stories without troubles.

And you dream, you dream...

What does she love, what does she want ?

And those shadows she's drawing around your eyes ?

What does she love ?

What does she dream, who does she see ?

And those ropes she's coiling around your arms ?

What does she love ?

I will listen to you telling me her whispers, her laces,

That looking back on it, she's not really pretty anymore,

That you've already been through stronger moments,

Since...

She isn't getting out of your memory

Neither at night, nor the day,

She dances behind fogs

And you, you're searching and running.

But there is no love stories without troubles.

And you dream, you dream...

She isn't getting out of your memory

She dances behind fogs

As for me, I lived the same story

Since then, I'm counting the days...

Since then, I'm counting the days...

Since then, I'm counting the days...

• Artist:Francis Cabrel
• Album:Sarbacane (1989)