Marie, ma saison préférée

It was a rainy Sunday in the Marais,

A little café, the windows grey,

You shook the raindrops from your hair,

And suddenly the sun was there.

Five years of Sundays since that day,

Coffee and croissants lead the way,

The same warm scent, the same soft light,

Marie, you make each morning bright.

Marie, Marie, my gentle sun,

You turn the plainest hours to gold,

Our great adventure's just begun,

The sweetest story ever told.

Thank you for every ordinary day,

Marie, I love you, more than I can say.

You sing off-key while dinner simmers,

Each wrong note sways and gently shimmers,

No sweeter song has reached my ear

Than your bright voice that draws me near.

Through Brittany's mist, so soft and grey,

Our old car died by the sea that day,

Beneath one yellow raincoat, tight,

We laughed until the fog turned bright.

Marie, Marie, my gentle sun,

You turn the plainest hours to gold,

Our great adventure's just begun,

The sweetest story ever told.

Thank you for every ordinary day,

Marie, I love you, more than I can say.

So soft, so sunny, quick to roam,

You take my hand without a plan,

And every road becomes our home,

And every Sunday starts again.

Marie, Marie, my gentle sun,

You turn the plainest hours to gold,

Our great adventure's just begun,

The sweetest story ever told.

Thank you for every ordinary day,

Marie, I love you, more than I can say.

You take my hand without a plan... (Guitare finale)