Que Reste-t-il de Nos Amours
Charles Trénet
What remains of our loves
Tonight the wind knocks at my door
Tell me about dead loves
In front of the dying fire
Tonight is a fall song
In the shivering house
And I think of distant days
What remains of our loves?
What remains of those beautiful days?
A photo, old photo
From my youth
What remains of the love letters?
April months, appointments?
A memory that haunts me
Constantly
Faded happiness, hair in the wind
Stolen Kisses, Moving Dreams
What remains of all this?
Tell me
A small village, an old bell tower
A landscape so well hidden
And in a cloud the dear face
From my past
The words, the tender words that we whisper
The purest caresses
Oaths in the depths of the woods
Flowers found in a book
Whose scent intoxicates you
Why did they fly away?
What remains of our loves?
What remains of those beautiful days?
A photo, old photo
From my youth
What remains of the love letters?
April months, appointments?
A memory that haunts me
Constantly
Faded happiness, hair in the wind
Stolen Kisses, Moving Dreams
What remains of all this?
Tell me
A small village, an old bell tower
A landscape so well hidden
And in a cloud the dear face
From my past
A small village, an old bell tower
A landscape so well hidden
And in a cloud the dear face
From my past
