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Thread: Les roses blanches

 
  1. #1
    Senior Member Frank van den Eeden's Avatar
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    Default Les roses blanches

    Les roses blanches

    C'était un gamin un gosse de Paris
    Sa seule famille était sa mère
    Une pauvre fille aux grands yeux flétris
    Par le chagrin et la misère

    Elle aimait les fleurs, les roses surtout
    Et le cher bambin, le dimanche
    Lui apportait des roses blanches
    Au lieu d'acheter des joujoux
    La câlinant bien tendrement
    Il disait en les lui donnant

    C'est aujourd'hui dimanche
    Tiens ma jolie maman
    Voici des roses blanches
    Toi qui les aimes tant
    Va quand je serai grand
    J'achèterai au marchand
    Toutes ses roses blanches
    Pour toi jolie maman

    Au dernier printemps le destin brutal
    Vint frapper la blonde ouvrière
    Elle tomba malade et pour l'hôpital
    Le gamin vit partir sa mère
    Un matin d'avril parmi les promeneurs
    N'ayant plus un sous dans sa poche
    Sur un marché le pauvre gosse
    Furtivement vola quelques fleurs
    La fleuriste l'ayant surpris, en baissant la tête il lui dit

    C'est aujourd'hui dimanche
    Et j'allais voir maman
    J'ai pris ces roses blanches
    Elle les aime tant
    Sur son petit lit blanc
    Là-bas elle m'attend
    J'ai pris ces roses blanches
    Pour ma jolie maman

    La marchande émue doucement lui dit
    Emporte-les je te les donne
    Elle l'embrassa et l'enfant partit
    Tout rayonnant qu'on le pardonne
    Puis à l'hôpital il vint en courant
    Pour offrir les fleurs à sa mere
    Mais en le voyant une infirmière
    Lui dit: Tu n'as plus de maman
    Et le gamin s'agenouillant, dit devant le petit lit blanc

    C'est aujourd'hui dimanche
    Tiens ma jolie maman
    Voici des roses blanches
    Toi qui les aimais tant
    Et quand tu t'en iras
    Au grand jardin là-bas
    Ces belles roses blanches
    Tu les emporteras

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-jr7...roses+blanches


    The white roses

    He was a little boy, a chappie in Paris
    his only family was his mother
    a poor girl with eyes glazed
    by chagrin and misery

    She loved flowers, especially roses
    and the dear little boy, on Sunday
    took her white roses
    instead of buying little toys
    softly cuddling her
    he said while giving them

    Today is Sunday
    for you my pretty mama
    here are some white roses
    for you who love them so
    Know when I grow up
    I will buy from the merchant
    All his white roses
    For you pretty mama

    Last fall brutal destiny
    hit the blond worker
    she fell ill and to the hospital
    the little boy saw his mother go
    An April morning among the strollers
    with not a penny in his pocket
    on the market the poor boy
    furtively stole some flowers
    caught by the saleswoman, bowing his head said to her

    Today is Sunday
    I was going to see mama
    I have taken these white roses
    that she loves so much
    In her little white bed
    She awaits me there
    I have taken these white roses
    for my pretty mama

    The saleswoman is moved and softly says to him
    take them I give them to you
    she kissed him and the boy went away
    beaming that he was forgiven
    Then he came running to the hospital
    To give the flowers to his mother
    But upon noticing him, a nurse
    says to him “you have no more mama”
    And the little boy kneels and says in front of the little white bed

    Today is Sunday
    for you my pretty mama
    here are some white roses
    you who loved them so
    And when you go away
    To the large garden over there
    These beautiful white roses
    You can take with you



    Last edited by Frank van den Eeden; 07-06-2008 at 11:03 AM.
    beste groeten - sincères salutations - kindest regards - atentamente - mit freundlichen Grüßen

  2. #2
    Moderator SandraT's Avatar
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    Wow! This one was tough for me!! Great job! Beautiful!
    Realmente, el destino del mundo depende, en primer lugar, de los estadistas y, en segundo lugar, de los intérpretes.
    Trygve Halvdan Lie

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