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When evening falls
I will sit alone
On the wooden bench
But you're not here
I hear the pigeons
Who coo in circles
I hear the children
Who amuse themselves with war, with elephants, cheerfully
I see, in turn
The lovers of love
Exchange between them
Voluptuous kisses
I hear the song of autumn
In the shivering trees
When evening falls
That I will sit down
On the wooden bench
But you're not here
I see a statue
This man of virtue
Well deserved posterity
Her hair is too long
Fall on his jacket
Her frozen smile
Ill-suited to his slightly too neglected air
Fate of the statues
To be there, stubborn
At the end of the aisles
Sadly, to remind us
The inventor of the potato
Or that of the lightning rod
When evening falls
That I will sit down
On the wooden bench
But you're not here
The sun goes out
Until tomorrow morning
Reflections in the water
Are those of the bicycles
The cinemas are turning on
And already the mist
Wrap the roofs
Envelop the woods and the whole city drowns
In a stream of passers-by
At the incessant rhythm
This is the joyful moment
This is the moment of a wonderful world
It's the Invalides fair
I'm going for small cars
When evening falls
That I will sit down
On the wooden bench
But you're not here
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