Original Title: "Comme un rhume"
Music: Jean-Pierre Roseau
Year: 1967
You, you came to me. You, you came to me like a cold
Completely naked, completely naked, the brunette's way
I should have closed my window but, but it does not matter
You would have come in, you'd have crawled under my door
You, you surprised me, by my bedside like a cold
You my illness, my epidemic, you my brunette
I should have known, I should have expected that bug
But I could not see, in my dark bedroom, anything else but your dress
And you slipped me and you've left me with your bacillus
At the paced pulse, at the insane rythm of your eyelashes
I should have pushed, I should have chased away that fever
But I was moved, but I was trapped like an hare
Then you went away, little by little, my migraine
And I, I healed under the surgical knife of the weeks
Mars' sun dispels that bitch of haze
And days which pass, little by little, erase the colds
But since then and that gush of wind on my path
Way more often than before I often cough and dread
To still keep half buttercup half chrysanthemum
The woman who sleeps at the bottom of my body like a germ
The woman who sleeps at the bottom of my body and whom I love
