It's midnight. The cabaret's wakin' up. A lot of women, flowers, and champagne The eternal sad party of those who live to the beat of a tango is about to begin. I'm chained by forty years of life, with a grey-haired head and an old heart: Today I can watch with a lot of sorrow what at other times I saw through rose-colored glasses. The poor taxi dancers, Stupified by kisses, Stare at me, as if strangers, With curiosity. They don't recognize me anymore. I'm lonely and old. There's no light in my eyes ... Life is getting shorter. An old rake that spends his money Getting Lulu' drunk with his champagne Today he denied a raise to a poor worker Who asked him for one more piece of bread. That poor woman who sells flowers who was the queen of Montmartre in my time, Offers me, with a smile, some violets, Maybe to make my loneliness less blue. And I think about life: mothers that suffer, children that roam with neither bread nor a roof, selling newspapers, for two cents ... How sad it all is! I feel like cryin'!
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