Nous sommes tous morts à vingt ans [English translation]

We are all dead at twenty

Picking the petals off the flower of age

Hanging from the tree of spring

In the most beautiful of landscapes

The earth rotates for children

Those who grow up too bad for them

It will swell the regiment

Of the officials of boredom

With days that resemble

Habits and grimaces

And migraines, trembling hands

From wrinkle to wrinkle, from ice to ice

We are all dead at twenty

Picking the petals off of the sick flower

Of an agonizing ideal

Of a barricaded spring

I who detests war

Sometimes envy

The dead child a spot of earth

Without having time to cry

Without seeing the sad smile

Without listening to the bird lying

Twenty years is to learn to live

The rest to learn how to die

We are all dead at twenty

Picking the petals off the flower of dreams

In a station or on a bench

Where the first love ends

Why prolong its youth

Why play at being again

Love is dead and tenderness

Committed suicide from body to body

We're all ghosts

Of a certain sex, of a certain age

With words for feelings

With masks for faces

We are all dead at twenty

Picking the petals off the flower of age

Hanging from the tree of spring

In the most beautiful of landscapes

La la la la la la la la

La la li la la la la la la

La la li la la la la la...

We are all dead at twenty...

• Artist:Dalida