I am talking to you about a time that at this moment no longer has value
I'm telling you about Montmartre, about the lilac flowers blooming in the windows
Of our room filled with hope and great love
Painter means little to eat but I never cried
It was a beautiful age for us
And in the nearby cafés we were someone waiting for glory
But to tell the truth we believed in it a lot
So much so that a canvas was then transformed into a hot meal
And all without a penny, around a fireplace winter is no longer there
It means living like this
Love everyone and say yes
Very often it happened that you spent the night at your easel
And you drew me standing there for you, for hours and hours on end
And then in the morning the sun found us dead of tiredness
And we both went down together happily to drink a good coffee
Being twenty years old with you
I've never seen you again
When one day by chance you find yourself walking past the house
The house in Montmartre, you no longer see the lilacs and everything seems sad
And the canvas no longer passes over that ladder, now everything is new
You are a great gentleman who dies of pain and who never cries
You hear a voice and think of me
You never go back