In recent research, I discovered one of my subject's favorite songs...picture this coming to you on the streets of Paris, and let it break your heart. But then again, someone could sing about amputated limbs or tax law in French and I would find it beautiful.
I try to ignore the gross sentimentality and the fact that Linda Rondstadt may have covered it. Perhaps in its day the song was akin to an overplayed Celine Dion ballad. But there's just enough edge in the translation to keep me happy: "You know well that underneath it all, I don't believe any of it..."