I’m telling you about a time
That those who’re under twenty don’t know
Montmartre at this time was hanging its lilacs
Up under our windows
And although our modest furnished
That we used as a nest did not look great,
That is where we’ve met,
Me, starving, and you, posing nude.
La bohème, la bohème.
It meant we’re happy
La bohème, la bohème.
We only ate once every two days
In the nearby coffee shops
We’re few
Who were waiting for glory, and despite our poverty with our empty stomachs
We’ve never stopped believing in it and when some bistro
For a nice warm meal
We sold one of our paintings, we recited verses,
Gathered around the stove while forgetting winter.
La bohème, la bohème,
It meant you’re pretty.
La bohème, la bohème,
We were all geniuses.
Often I used,
In front of my easel,
To spend sleepless nights
Retouching the drawing
The line of a breast
The curve of a hip, and it was only in the morning
When we finally sit
in front of a coffe with cream
Exhausted but overjoyed
We must have loved each other, and loved the life.
La bohème,la bohème,
It meant we were in our twenties
La bohème, la bohème,
We’ve lived our time.
In the hasard of the days
I went to take a tour
In my old address
I no longer know
Nrither the walls, nor the streets
That have seen my youth
At the top of a stairway
I was searching for the studio
Of which nothing remains
In his new decor,
Montmartre looks sad and the lilacs were dead.
La bohème, la bohème
We were young, we were fools
La bohème, la bohème
It’s now meaningless