Pigalle

It's a street
It's a square
It's even a whole neighborhood,
We talk about it, we pass by
People come from all over the world.
Perched on the side of Paname
From afar, it smiles at you,
Because it reflects the soul
The sweetness and spirit of Paris

A little fountain
A subway station
Surrounded by bistros,
Pigalle.
Department stores
Workshops for artists
Restaurants for the wealthy,
Pigalle

There, it's the singer of the crossroads
Who hums the hits of the day,
Here, the athlete in a swimsuit
Who lifts weights of a hundred kilos,

Furnished hotels
Discreetly lit
Where you only pass by,
Pigalle
And around midnight
A fading refrain,
From a nightclub,
Pigalle.

You come across
Faces
Common and sensational,
Languages are spoken
Like at the Tower of Babel
And when twilight comes
It's the big love market,
It's the corner where wander
Those who take the night for the day.

Girls and models,
Gypsies with clever eyes
Who read palms,
Pigalle
Bums, peddlers
Bar owners,
Cocaine dealers,
Pigalle

Little women who smile at you
Saying: 'You coming, darling?'
And Prosper who in a corner
Discreetly watches over his breadwinner,

A little fountain,
A subway station,
Surrounded by bistros,
Pigalle
It lives, it screams
People will say what they want
But in the world there's only one
Pigalle.