Charles Aznavour - Paris during the month of August

Original Title: "Paris au mois d'août"
Music: Georges Garvarentz
Year: 1966
Song written by Aznavour for the movie "Paris au mois d'août", inspired from the book written by René Fallet.
An english adaptation exists, written also by Aznavour in 1967.

Swept away by September
Our love of one summer
Sadly dismembers itself
And dies in the past
No matter how I expected it
My heart emptied of everything
Looks suspiciously like
Paris during the month of August

Of tears and laughter
Our love was made
Which dreading the worse
Lived day by day
Every street, every stone
Seemed to belong only to us
We were alone on earth
In Paris during the month of August

To tell you I love you
As far away as you are
A part of myself
Stays attached to you
And the other part, solitary
Looks from everywhere
For the blinding light
Of Paris during the month of August

God make that my dream
To find back some
Of the month of August on your lips
Of Paris in your eyes
Shapes up and revives
Our slightly crazy love
So that everything begins again
In Paris during the month of August

Charles Dumont - She

original title: "Elle"
Year: 1976

She
She is the hope behind the door
My heart beating in the stairway
She is my weakness and my strength
My lie and my thruth

She
When she is there time stops
She is of snow, she is of summer
She is my calm and my tempest
My wild flower, my orchid

She
Her red lips imprison me
In the kisses I give her
And her white arms are streams
When she falls asleep against my skin

She
She is my voluntray exile
Secret garden of my desires
She is everything I want to be
She is everything I want to sayv
She
She is the hope behind the door
My heart beating in the stairway
She is the dream taking me away
Where I can forget everything

She
Immortal like the stone
Warm like the grapes of August
She is my being and my light
The beginning and the end of everything

She
She is making me cross the sea
Figure head of my life
And it does not matter to me where she is taking me
Eyes wide open I follow her

She
She is well the first woman
Born from a rose a summer evening
Essential like the flame
Night sun of my thoughts

She
She is woman of all types
She is my life my destiny
She is my order and my disorder
I don't want anything else but to love her