Pommes, pommes, pommes
C'est l'automne
Si monotone
C'est triste, triste, triste
Les feuilles mortes
Les flaques d'eau
Le vent dans la ruelle qui emporte les journaux
Apples, apples, apples
It's autumn
So monotone
It's sad, sad, sad
The dead leaves
The puddles of water
The wind in the alleyway which blows away the newspapers
À Boulogne
C'est de saison
Les enfants
Ramassent des marrons
En caressant l'automne
Un balayeur fredonne :
"Pommes, pommes, pommes ...
Oh mon amour
Le jour viendra
Où tu refleuriras."
In Boulogne
It's the season
When the children
Collect chestnuts
In the caress of autumn
A street sweeper hums:
Apples, apples, apples....
Oh my love
The day will come again
Where you will bloom once more.
La nuit tombe
On s'étonne
Ces feuilles sur le sol ?
Et oui, c'est l'automne
Un homme sans toit
Occupe un banc de bois
On le montre aux enfants qui n'obéissent pas
Night falls
One is shocked
These leaves on the ground?
And yes, it's autumn
A man without a roof
Occupies a wooden bench
People show him to their disobedient children (as a threat)*
C'est l'automne
C'est l'automne
Et de temps en temps
L'hiver montre ses dents
Et la nuit sous les ponts
On gèle jusqu'au trognon
De pomme, pomme, pomme
It's autumn
It's autumn
And from time to time
Winter shows its teeth
And at night under the bridges
One freezes to the core
Of apples, apples, apples
*This song is about homelessness. In this line, the homeless man is being shown to naughty children as a threat to say, "If you don't behave, you will grow up to him."