Uploaded March 2026 | Updated September 2026, 3 weeks ago

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* I 'm talking to you about a time
That those under twenty
Can't know
Montmartre at that time
Hung her lilacs
Even under our windows
And if the humble garnished
Which served as our nest
Did not look like
This is where we got to know each other
I who cried famine
And you who posed naked
The bohemian, the bohemian
That meant
One is happy
The bohemian, the bohemian
We only ate every other day
In neighboring cafes
We were a few
Who were waiting for glory
And although miserable
With an empty stomach
We never stop believing it
And when some bistro
Against a good hot meal
Took a canvas from us
We recited verses
Grouped around the stove
Forgetting the winter
The bohemian, the bohemian
That meant
You are pretty
The bohemian, the bohemian
And we all had genius
Often it happened to me
In front of my easel
To spend sleepless nights
Retouching the drawing
From the line of a breast
the curve of a hip
And it's only in the morning
That we finally sit down
In front of a café-crème
Exhausted but delighted
Did we have to love each other
And that we love life
The bohemian, the bohemian
That meant
We are twenty years old
The bohemian, the bohemian
And we lived in the spirit of the times
When random days
I'm going for a walk
At my old address
I no longer recognize
Neither the walls nor the streets
Who saw my youth
At the top of a staircase
I'm looking for the workshop
Of which nothing remains
In its new decor
Montmartre seems sad
And the lilacs are dead
The bohemian, the bohemian
We were young
We were crazy
The bohemian, the bohemian
It doesn't mean anything at all