Tenderness saves toutQuand l' love put the boutsSa passion certainly was this qu' it étaitElle m' liked right this qu' it fallaitLa tenderness saves toutQuand the dashes put the boutsCertes there was prettier qu' of it; elleLa only which counted for me c' was elleAujourd' today it n' there more d' has; amourEt in spite of beautiful the saisonOn s' sees with against-jourQu' it ran l' water under the pontElle is so tender désormaisQue j' in have as remordsJe will be soft jusqu' with my mortJe will not leave it jamaisLa tenderness saves toutQuand l' love put the boutsMoi j' neither beautiful nor laidElle m' was a husband; misled right this qu' he fallaitLa tenderness saves toutQuand youth put the boutsElle n' was certainly not more fidèleMoi j' was the only one which counted for elleAujourd' today it n' there more d' has; amourEt in spite of the husked rice s' powder; sees with against-jourQu' it rained on the mercerieElle is so wise désormaisQue j' in have as remordsJe will be soft jusqu' with my mortJe will not leave it jamaisLa tenderness saves toutQuand l' love put the boutsMa virtue n' d' was not that; a saintJ' heated in mine d' others mainsLa tenderness saves toutQuand patience put the boutsJe n' stays not a drinker of the more sobresJ' liked to taste with the new wine d' octobreAujourd' today it n' there more d' has; amourEt in spite of my small hat rondOn s' with against-jourLe plowed song of my frontJe am so wise désormaisQu' sees; it has as remordsEt I know that jusqu' with its mortal will never leave me