It runs, it runs the pipe cleaner,
The pipe cleaner of wood, Mesdames,
It runs, it runs the pipe cleaner,
Keep you to take it with the rets
Of your charms;
While struggling, it could
You to bite with the tears!
When the happiness which it gives is useless,
Why think of this unpleasant?
Let flee it among the green ones
Obscure and deserted forests.
One cries, one cries so much sometimes
To have touched finger its dream.
Happiness in sorrow is completed,
Alas! more often than one does not believe.
It is necessary to let run to wood
The pipe cleaner carrying short joys.