La mort
Jacques Brel
Death
Death awaits me like an old maid
At the scythe's appointment
To better reap the passing time
Death awaits me like a princess
At the burial of my youth
To better weep for the passing time
Death awaits me like Carabosse
At the fire of our wedding
To better laugh at the passing time
But what's behind the door
And already waiting for me
Angel or demon, it doesn't matter
In front of the door, there's you
Death waits under the pillow
For me to forget to wake up
To better freeze the passing time
Death waits for my friends
To come see me in the middle of the night
To better acknowledge that time passes
Death awaits me in your clear hands
That will have to close my eyelids
To better leave behind the passing time
But what's behind the door
And already waiting for me
Angel or demon, it doesn't matter
In front of the door, there's you
Death awaits me in the last leaves
Of the tree that will make my coffin
To better nail down the passing time
Death awaits me in the lilacs
That a gravedigger will throw on me
To better adorn the passing time
Death awaits me in a big bed
Covered with the sheets of oblivion
To better close off the passing time
But what's behind the door
And already waiting for me
Angel or demon, it doesn't matter
In front of the door, there's you
