Idiote, Je T'Aime
Charles Aznavour
Idiot, I Love You
I've always been too modest
To let these often cheesy expressions
Run on my lips
Inscribed in the dictionary of happiness
I know you would like
My breath to be poetic
But if I were more romantic
Tell me what would change
Idiot, I love you
Idiot, I love you
Idiot, I love you
In my own way, in my own fashion
Since the time we've been living
Even bohemian and carefree
Idiot, I love you
Idiot, I love you
And I forbid you to doubt it
Idiot, I love you
Like I've never loved before
I've never had the talent
To use, I admit
These worn-out words
Overused by more than one lover
But I have phrases at my fingertips
That at night address your body
And when they speak, they caress
They do it much better than my voice
Idiot, I love you
Idiot, I love you
Idiot, I love you
With trembling hand, in veiled words
When on the parchment of your skin
I engrave my most beautiful poems
I love you, I love you, I love you
Idiot, I love you
Idiot, I love you
And even though I'm clumsy
Idiot, I love you
And will never love anyone but you
