Текст песни Edith Piaf - L' accordeoniste

The prostitute is beautiful
At the corner of the street, over there.
She has a clientele,
Who stuffs her stocking;
When her work ends,
It is sent in turn
Look for a little dream
At the dances in the suburbs.
Her male artist,
One of the funny guys,
Accordionist,
Who knows how to play java.

She listens to the will,
But do not dance it,
She does not even look at the dance floor.
And her loving eyes
Follow the nervous game
And dry and long fingers of the artist.
It penetrates her skin
From below, from above,
She wants to sing,
It's something physical.
Her whole being is tense,
Her breath is hidden,
She really was mad with music.

The prostitute is sad
On the corner of the street, over there
Her accordionist
He went to the soldiers;
When he returns from the war,
They will have a house,
She will be a cashier,
And he will be the master.
How beautiful life will be,
They will be like real pashas,
And every evening
He will play for her.

The prostitute is lonely
At the corner of the street, over there.
Girls who pout,
Men do not need.
Well, let her die,
Her man will not return,
Farewell, all the wonderful dreams,
Her life is broken.
However, her sad legs
They take her to the tavern,
Where is the other artist
He plays all night.

She listens to ...
... she hears,
... she closed her eyes
... and dry and nervous fingers
It penetrates her skin
From below, from above,
She wants to scream,
It's something physical.
Then, to forget,
She began to dance, spinning
To the sound of music

Stop it!
Stop the music!