Le restaurant italien [English translation]

On some evenings of melancholy

When the fog is above Paris

I go to find somewhere

An Italy that smokes late

It's up in the old city

It's all straight, all in oil

Half a donjon, half a mill

Half Venice and half nothing

At the Italian restaurant

We talk with our hands

We go to revive the fire of the Neapolitan sky

In the Italian restaurant

Life's tragedies

Become comedies

Like at the opera and it doesn't end with that

We cultivate secrets there

We ban silence

We make fakes out of the real

And we dine there like we dance

The owner of the place receives you

Like in renaissance times

And when he snaps his fingers

The spectacle begins

At the Italian restaurant

We talk with our hands

We go to revive the fire of the Neapolitan sky

At the Italian restaurant

Life's tragedies

Become comedies

Like at the opera and it doesn't end with that

We light ourselves with stars

And we hear the laugh of poets

We exchange looks

Or we make fun of prophets

Suddenly, a maestro arrives

In the company of his diva

When he comes in, we shout "Bravo"

And we get up when he leaves

At the Italian restaurant

We talk with our hands

We go to revive the fire of the Neapolitan sky

In the Italian restaurant

Life's tragedies

Become comedies

Like at the opera and it doesn't end with that

At the Italian restaurant

Life's tragedies

Become comedies

Like at the opera and it doesn't end with that

At the Italian restaurant

• Artist:Dalida
• Album:Les P'tits Mots (1983)