Original Title: "Le dernier repas"
Year: 1963
At my last meal
I want to see my brothers
And my dogs and my cats
And the sea shore
At my last meal
I want to see my neighbors
And then a few chinese
By way of cousins
And I want us to drink there
In addition to communion wine
Of that so pretty wine
That we drank in Arbois
I want us to devour there
After a few soutanes
A pheasant poultry
Coming from the Perigord
Then I want to be taken away
On top of my hill
To see the trees sleeping
While closing their arms
And then I want to still
Throw stones toward the sky
While shouting "God is dead"
One last time
At my last meal
I want to see my donkey
My chickens and my geese
My cows and my women
At my last meal
I want to see those hussies
Of whom I was master and king
And who were my mistresses
When I will have in my paunch
enough to drown the earth
I will break my glass
To ask for silence
And will sing my head off
To the advancing death
The bayard romances
Which scares the nuns
Then I want to be taken away
On top of my hill
To see the evening making its path
Slowly toward the plain
And there, standing up still
I will insult the bourgeois
Without fear and without remorse
One last time
After my last meal
I want people to go away
For them to finish feasting
Elsewhere than under my roof
After my last meal
I want to be installed
Sitting, alone, like a king
Welcoming his vestals
In my pipe, I will burn
My childhood memories
My unfinished dreams
My remains of hope
And I will only keep
To dress my soul
nothing but the idea of a rosebush
And a firstname of a woman
Then I will look at
the top of my hill
Which danses, which is being made out
And ends up sinking
And in the scent of the flowers
Which will soon go out
I know that I will be afraid
One last time
Another version:
Jacques Brel A Mon Dernier Repas par jacque_brel
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