I'm talking to you about a time
That those under twenty years old
Cannot know
Montmartre at that time
Hanging its lilacs
Right under our windows
What if the humble garni
Who served as our nest
Didn't look like anything
That's where we met
Me who screamed famine
And you who posed naked
Bohemia, bohemia
That meant we are happy
Bohemia, bohemia
We only ate one day out of two
In the neighboring cafes
There were a few of us
Who were waiting for glory
And although poor
With hungry stomachs
We never stopped 'believe in it
And when some bistro
Against a good hot meal
We took a canvas
We recited verses
Grouped around the stove
Forgetting winter
Bohemia, bohemia
It meant you are pretty
Bohemia, bohemia
And we all had genius
Often it happened to me
In front of my easel
To spend sleepless nights
Retouching the drawing
Of the line of a breast
Of the curve of a hip
And this It's only morning
That we finally sit down
In front of a coffee and cream
Exhausted but delighted
Did we have to love each other
And that we love life
Bohemia, bohemia
That meant we were twenty years old
Bohemia, bohemia
And we lived on the air of time
When at random days
I'm going for a walk
To my old address
I no longer recognize
Neither the walls nor the streets
br/>Who saw my youth
At the top of a staircase
I am looking for the workshop
Nothing remains
In its new setting
Montmartre seems sad
And the lilacs are dead
Bohemia, bohemia
We were young, we were crazy
Bohemia, bohemia
It doesn't mean anything anymore say at all

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