Of course, it's not the Seine,
It's not the Bois de Vincennes,
But it's very pretty all the same,
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
br/>No platforms and no refrains
Who lament and who drag themselves,
But love flourishes there all the same,
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
They know better than us, I think,
The history of our kings of France,
Herman, Peter, Helga and Hans,
In Göttingen.
And that no one offense,
But the tales of our childhood,
"Once upon a time" begins
In Göttingen.
Of course we have the Seine
And then our Bois de Vincennes,
But God, the roses are beautiful
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
We have our pale mornings
And the gray soul of Verlaine,
They are melancholy itself,
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
When they don't know how to tell us anything,
They stay there smiling at us
But we understand them all the same,
The blond children of Göttingen.
And too bad for those who are surprised
And may the others forgive me,
But the children are the same,
br/>In Paris or in Göttingen.
O let it never come again
The time of blood and hatred
For there are people I love,
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
And when the alarm sounds,
If it was necessary to take up arms again,
My heart would shed a tear
For Göttingen, for Göttingen.
But it's very pretty all the same,
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
And when the alarm sounds,
If it was necessary to take up arms again,
My heart would shed a tear
For Göttingen, for Göttingen.

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