It's barely dawn
And I fall from the feather
My love is still asleep
With the sleep of the anvil
I leave her to her dreams
Where I'm surely not
Marlon Brando takes her away
What would I be doing there?

On a wild horse
They go, ridiculous
Outside, there's a storm
They're wet, it's lame
Me, I'm sharpening my rods
To go fishing
Bag on the shoulder
Sausage, fresh beer

When the sun arrives
My love wakes up
Heart adrift
Eyes full of sleep
Calls her mother
Who is her best friend
Ephemeral words
And little worries

I would like to hear
What she says about me
It's surely very tender
Well, I can't hear
Me, I plant my hook
At the top of a branch
I pull on the nylon
Ruin a phalanx

The day advances a bit
My love puts on makeup
One eye and then the other
It's futile but it shines
Who does she want to seduce
I'm not even there
I kill myself telling her
That she's better without all that

That her eyes are clearer
When they are in my pocket
And that wanting to please too much
Is the pleasure of the ugly
Me, I pull out a trout
Of at least one hundred and twenty kilos
I pity, too small
I throw it back into the water

It's past noon
I come back empty-handed
Too much wind, not enough
The water was too wet
So I go home
Sad as a menhir
And no one is there
To hear me lie
My love is gone
Is gone forever
I lost my love
And I lost my life

I'll take, Sunday
If I can, the little girl
To get tangled in the branches
Fishing with a line
I'll take, Sunday
If I want, the little girl
To get tangled in the branches
Fishing with a line

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