French Lyrics

The Butterfly

The last, the very last
So richly, brightly
dazzling yellow.
Perhaps if the sun's tears
could sing against a white stone.

For seven weeks I've lived in here,
penned up inside this ghetto.
But I have found my people here.
The dandelions call to me and
the white chestnut candles in the court.
Only I never saw another butterfly.

The last, the very last.
So richly, brightly
dazzling yellow.
Perhaps if the sun's tears
could sing against a white stone.

Such, such a yellow
is carried lightly way up high.
It went away I'm sure
because it wished to
kiss the world good-bye.

The last, the very last.
So richly, brightly
dazzling yellow.
Perhaps if the sun's tears
could sing against a white stone.

That butterfly was the last one.
Butterflies don't live in here.

Translation