La complainte de la Butte [English translation]
La complainte de la Butte [English translation]
The Moon, too pallid*, places a diadem on your red hair
The Moon, too red, splatters with glory your underskirt full of holes
The Moon, too pale, caresses the opal of your jaded eyes
Street Princess, be welcomed in my broken heart.
Chorus:
The stairways up to La Butte**
can make the wretched sigh.
While windmill wings of the Moulin
shelter you and I.
Little beggar, I feel your little hand*** searching for mine
I feel your breast and your thin waist
I forget my chagrin
I feel your lips / a feverish smell of a malnourished child**** /
And under your caress I feel an exhilaration wipe me out me.
Chorus:
The stairways up to La Butte
can make the wretched sigh.
While windmill wings of the Moulin
shelter you and I.
The stairways of La Butte are hard on the destitute
The wings of The Windmill protect the lovers
And now she scampers about, the Moon floats along, the Princess as well... La da da da da da da da da...
Me dreams are blooming
The stairways of La Butte are hard on the destitute
The wings of The Windmill protect the lovers.
- Artist:Rufus Wainwright
- Album:Moulin Rouge [soundtrack]