C'est en septembre
Gilbert Becaud
It's in September
The olive trees are giving up
The grapes are blushing red
And the sand has turned cold
Under the bright sun
Lifeguards and seasonal workers
Return to their real jobs
And the figurines will be carved
Before Christmas
It's in September
When the sailboats are unveiled
And the beach
Shakes under the shadow of a faded autumn
It's in September
That we can truly live
In summer, my country
In summer, it's all a mess
The campers, the camping gas
Under the blazing sun
The big fair of illusions
The shorts too short, the shorts too long
The Dutch girls and their melons
From Cavaillon
It's in September
When summer puts on its shoes again
And the beach
Is like a belly that no one has touched
It's in September
That my country can breathe
Land of my youth
Where my father is buried
My school was heated
Under the bright sun
In May, I leave
And I leave you to the strangers
To go be a stranger myself
Under other skies
But in September
When I return to where I was born
And my beach recognizes me
Opens its arms like a bride
It's in September
That I celebrate the new year
It's in September
That I fall asleep
Under the olive tree
