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Children always have rosy cheeks
They have a mischievous glint in their eye and are clumsy when they speak.
Sometimes their games can turn mean, violent.
When they mimic the attitude of adults
The eldest daughter is questioning herself
15 years already, no heart in harmony
She still believes in that prince, oh so charming
But will he ever come? God knows when.
Life seemed rosy to them
Cotton candy, nougat, marshmallow pasta
At the time of their first spring
Children always have strange tastes.
They paint me green, Martian, Indian, Sioux
Then they fall asleep and wake up quite astonished.
To find myself made up like this
I am subject to their laws, I am their possession.
A willing punching bag with whom one talks
Will they remember me when they grow up?
Growing old is really child's play.
Life seemed rosy to them
The bandstand, the kites in the fleeting sky
At the time of their first spring
At the time of their first spring
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