Quasimodo:
[singing]
Out there among the millers and the weavers and their wives / Through the roofs and gables I can see them / Every day they shout and scold and go about their lives / Heedless of the gift it is to be them / If I was in their skin, I'd treasure every instant / Out there, strolling by the Seine, taste a morning out there / Like ordinary men, who freely walk about there / Just one day, and then I swear I'll be content / With my share / Won't resent, won't despair, old and bent, I won't care / I'll have spent one day out there!
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05/03/2025 alle ore 07:14
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