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The sun king is cold, the queen does not come and his heart laments
He crosses Versailles like a battlefield, his love grows impatient
Nothing can distract him, neither the plays of Molière, nor the Diva who sings
Neither the war treaties, nor the hunger, the misery of the waiting provinces
The Sun King is cold, the Queen does not come and his anger increases
Let us beat the countryside, from Burgundy to Brittany, to track down the absent
The horses we hide are to find the one who plays the emigrant
Neither Monsieur de Colbert nor all his ministries have any more urgent matters.
A rose is no longer in the garden
A rose and the king dies
Everything always has an end
Only roses keep their scent
The sun king is cold, the queen left him there, in the insolent morning
She laughs in her carriage, in these post houses, like a teenager
She goes to tell Louis that she only loves him and his intriguing court
The Sun King is cold and Chamberlain will say that the moon is distant
A rose is no longer in the garden
A rose and the king dies
Everything always has an end
Only roses keep their scent
A rose is no longer in the garden
A rose and the king dies
Everything always has an end
Only roses keep their scent
The sun king is cold
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