Chicken In Cruset Pot

Edith Piaf - Entre Saint-Ouen et Clignancourt (between the quarter of Saint-Ouen and Klinyankur)

236.

Edith Piaf
BETWEEN Saint-Ouen and CLIGNANCOURT
Lyrics: Mr. Aubret, music: A. Sablon, 1936

I sold flowers on terraces
When I was seventeen years
But the wheel turns, time flies: I
dough, now.
Well! Despite my bank account,
My car, my jewelry,
Some days I miss something. I
cockroach suddenly.

Between Saint-Ouen and Clignancourt
From time to time be qu'j'fasse
On a tour the area. I
r'trouve then all my past,
The sky so soft, hard pavement, grass yellow

And wading through streams,
bands kids half poulbots,
Half faunas,
The smell of fries and lilac. In
shivering all that I r'trouve
In zone.

In my opinion, people in the world
Do sav'nt not fair 'love. At the critical moment they

In canards abound in speech
So who's cell, like 'I know what this is
a male, a true
Cell's' s'dis'nt there: a guy , speed
And I rattrap'rai.

Between Saint-Ouen and Clignancourt
From time to time be qu'j'fasse
On a tour the area.
We send in the big Leon
While that song 'accordion
An old Beaune.
It's spring and it is evening.
Calm and strong, the front desk,
Guys And
enthroned in the heap we have to choose
To appease all desires
on the area. Sometimes

MEM the heart gets involved
And to hear better,
The voice that says "Mom, you're beautiful c'que"
It closes both eyes
n'vit But we love and Clear Water
That in some novels,
So quickly, it's Up Without dreaming
pair longer.

Between Saint-Ouen and Clignancourt
I rev'nue
yesterday for a ride on the area.
Quel chang'ment alors j'ai trouvé:
On démolit de tous côtés.
Quel cyclone ...
Plus d'bosquets, plus d'baraqu's en bois,
Plus d'ces chansons qu'étaient pour moi
Une aumône
Et devant mes souv'nirs détruits,
Tout 'seul' j'ai pleuré dans la nuit
Sur la zone.




Between kvartalm Saint-Ouen and Klinyankur
Words - M. Aubret, music - A. Sablon, 1933
__________________

I sold flowers on the terraces of cafes,
When I was seventeen years
But the wheel turns, the time comes,
I have money now,
Well, despite my bank account,
My car my jewelry,
Some days me something is missing,
have suddenly occurs to me melancholy.


between the quarter of Saint-Ouen and Klinyankur
from time to time I need
walk in this area * (la zone - the outskirts of Paris)
I regain all my past,
sky such a tender, hard pavements,
Yellow autumn grass,
And Gorgeous dirt in the gutters
gang guys, consisting half of boys and girls (from poor families from Montmartre)
and half of stray dogs and cats
Запах жаренной картошки и сирени,
С дрожью в сердце я снова обретаю всё это,
В бедных окраинах, (в этой зоне).

По-моему мнению, люди из высшего света,
Не know how to make love,
at the crucial moment they wordy,
are telling, there has been talk,
But those who I know,
What are these guys
Those saying: "With a guy, soon I'll catch up
"

between the quarters of Saint-Ouen and Klinyankur
from time to time I need to go
In poor neighborhoods,
flock in the cafe at the fat man Leon,
While the singing accordion
old from the town of Beaune (?)
This spring and this evening
calm and strong, the bar
Guys rise,
And the crowd just have to choose,
To pacify all his desires,
in poor neighborhoods on the outskirts.

Sometimes the heart falls
And to hear better
Voice govort: "Baby, how beautiful you are"
and close their eyes,
but live with love and pure water
Only a few novels,
Because faster flee,
not dreaming a long time.

In the district of Saint-Ouen and Klinyankur
I returned yesterday to walk
On the outskirts of Paris.
What kind of change I saw,
demolished from all sides What
cyclone.
There are no more trees, no wooden barracks,
No more songs that were for me,
Alms,
and destroyed before my memories
All alone I cry at night
in poor neighborhoods on the outskirts.


1937