♪ Les étoiles filantes - Cowboys Fringants

If I stop by for a moment,
To speak of life to you,
Just like that, in no hurry,
In a bar on St-Denis,
I'd tell you of the memories,
Well engraved in my memory,
Of that time when aging,
Was still much illusory.

When I teased the little girls,
Somewhere near the swings,
And that my marble blag,
Was becoming a real treasure.

Those snowy winters,
Building igloos,
And get back in with frozen feet,
Just in time for Passe-Partout.

And at the end of the road, tell me what will there be left,
Of the little school and the playground?
When the paper planes don't fly away in the wind anymore,
We tell ourselves that after all, good times go by,
Just like shooting stars.

If I stop by for a moment,
To speak of life to you,
I observe that pretty often,
We don't choose but we endure,
And that the dreams of little boys,
Fade away or are suppressed,
In that crude reality,
Taking us in the mold.

The thirties, the paunch,
The brats, the mortgage,
The blisses and the pains,
The successes and the failures.

Work, do our best,
Have a rough time, make it out,
And hope to be happy,
A little while before dying.

And at the end of the road, tell me what will there be left,
Of our little stay in that frantic world?
After an existence meant to buy some time,
We'll tell ourselves that after all, we were nothing more,
Than shooting stars.

If I stop by for a moment,
To speak of life to you,
Just like that, in no hurry,
Somewhere near St-Louis square,
It's because I am well with you,
And I don't feel like worrying no more,
Since, you know, to look too far ahead,
Is not much better than to look back.

Even though of those old bitternesses,
And those loves that pass away,
Those buddies we loose in the mist,
And those ideals that break down.

Life holds on and reborns,
Just like springs coming back,
In a whiff of fresh air,
That soothes the aching hearts.

So if tonight you feel like staying late,
With me, the night is mild, we can walk,
And even if we know everything just lasts a little while,
I would like you to be, for a moment,
My shooting star.

And at the end of the road, tell me what will there be left?
And at the end of the road, tell me what will there be left?
Only shooting stars.

Paroles : (c) Cowboys Fringants
Traduction : (c) Dovish
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