La Pluie

The sky is gray, the rain arrives as if by surprise
It's at our place and like a ritual that entangles us
The umbrellas open in rhythm
Like a dance,
The drops fall abundantly
Over sweet France.

Fall fall fall the rain
On this December Sunday
In the shadow of umbrellas
Pedestrians hurry, hurry, hurry without waiting

Sometimes we love it, it raises its voice, it pushes us
It doesn't give us news during a heatwave
Then it comes back like a need out of affection
And it sings us its great song
The flood

Fall fall fall the rain
On this December Sunday
In the shadow of umbrellas
Pedestrians hurry, hurry, hurry without waiting

Fall fall fall the rain
On this December Sunday
In the shadow of umbrellas
Pedestrians hurry, hurry, hurry without waiting

And fall and fall and fall, fall
And fall and fall and fall...