At this hour
Of spleen and boredom
At this dense hour
I would go make
Speak, make the night bleed
Make the flashing lights shine

It's almost midnight, one o'clock, the shop will soon close
And some minor desires haunt my battered skull
At this humid and dense hour, the night has put on
Her long, long haughty dress, and her fine ballet shoes
There she turns and dances, I thought, but are you dreaming?
In language, Rimbaud's language, I in turn insult her
The rose and the mignonette
The rose and the mignonette

Indifferent to the mutating stars
Indifferent to the memory says
The night dances but damn
What does she hide under her coat?

You, omniscient night, how, how dare you
Keep, keep silent and all these hard things?
A little sigh from Aeolus and I think I saw
In an instant like a flash the back of her coat
Once I've drunk the Creole punch I could sit on it
My head and my clear mind, I have mental calculations

The rose and the mignonette
The rose and the mignonette

Aaahaaahaahaaha

At this hour
Of spleen and boredom
At this dense hour
I would go make
Speak, make the night bleed
Make the flashing lights shine

It's almost midnight, one o'clock, the shop will soon close
And some minor desires haunt my battered skull
At this humid and dense hour, the night has put on
Her long, long haughty dress, and her fine ballet shoes
There she turns and dances, I thought, but are you dreaming?
In language, Rimbaud's language, I in turn insult her

The rose and the mignonette
The rose and the mignonette

CONSULTER LES PAROLES ORIGINALES