Monday, September 29, 2014

Jacques Bertin - Ballad of the visit to the end of the world

Original Title: "Ballade de la visite au bout du monde"

An evening of weariness and of lost roads
Coming from far as always and without ulterior motive
Left too late as always for the trip to the end of the world
Where we go looking for the improbable gold of the seven cities
I have left the lukewarm car on the square
The village is a black rose at the sea shore thrown
Through the alleys in the black rose I climbed
Right to your home without knowing if I would dare to knock
A silhouette in the square of light, beloved woman
I am insane! I come to bump against the end of the world
- Who is it at this time? The children are in bed!
Answer me, answer me, I am hunted down!

The door that seems to be closed for a hundred years
Opens and the threat of the dogs comes loose
You look for me, you ask, I come out of the shadow
You scream, you give your arms, you laugh, I am saved
We sit down around the hour that beats as if nothing had happened
We question, we make the inventory, we are surprised
The heart is wide offered on the polished tablecloth
We talk about nothing and without expecting an answer
I ask you without decency: Are you happy? and you say: - yes
You laugh at the question, we are at the end of the world
We take away from the table a glare of the sun
And I tell you that you are beautiful and that I always loved you

Jacques takes me to see the new house at the end of the garden
In the pitch black of the night it's madness, we can't see a thing
But in the blackest of the night you know your way
Every wall, every stone, every shadow
The house is planted in front of the marsh and the sea
You are arrived, for you the road does not go further
You have to fight for your place, life is not for tomorrow anymore
You can't change the subject anymore, it's good
And I already I run away on the road that flies toward Royan
The car dreams, it doesn't need its master
But barely am I alone again, I feel bad
I waste time and words, I am scared of happiness and of roses
Happiness, is it really nothing much?
If the rythm of the heart is so slow...what do I know...
Caught in that loneliness like in the mirrors, we stop
we smother, we are unable to move forward or backward, we die...
I come in the first hotel; people think I am crazy
Me too, I know my way! In the bed I roll myself up into a ball
I forget about everything.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Jean-Roger Caussimon - On a wish of Paul Elouard

Original Title: " Sur un voeu " Any caress, any trust survive themselves Those words so simple with light Were written by Paul...