Acquaforte

It's midnight, the cabaret awakens,
many women, flowers, and champagne;
the eternal and sad party is about to begin
for those who live to a rhythm and a desire.
Forty years of life chain me,
white-haired, old-hearted;
today I can look with much sorrow
at what I once looked at with hope.

The poor girls,
tired of kisses,
look at me strangely,
with curiosity...
They no longer recognize me,
I am alone and old.
How sad all this is,
life is slipping away!

An old rich man who spends his money
drinking Lulu with his champagne,
today denies a raise to a poor worker
who asked for a bit more bread.
That poor woman who sells flowers
and was once the queen of Montmartre in my time,
she offers me with a smile some violets
to perhaps brighten my loneliness.

And I think about life...
the mothers who suffer,
the children who wander,
without a roof and without bread...
selling newspapers,
earning a couple of coins.
How sad all this is,
I wish I could cry!