My country was beautiful
Of a wild beauty
And man, horse, and wood, and tool
Lived in harmony
Up to that great havoc
Noone can simply live here anymore
It's raining on that village
With dark alleys
And nothing else moves
The silence settles at the feet of our bed
Oh silence
Tender and harrowing violin
Joyous brass band
Cover us
Of the big coat of night
With your giant wings
My country was beautiful
Of a wild beauty
And man, horse, and wood, and tool
Lived in harmony
Up to that great havoc
Noone can simply live here anymore
Original Title: "Il se peut que je t'aime encore"
Year: 1980
I never know how to say the words you expect
I am better or worse than those you talk about while dreaming
I am a sleeping water, you'd like a torrent
But my love, Is way stronger
Than lightning and the north wind
And even after, after the autumn
I might still be loving you
I know nothing of the tears, I know nothing of the shouts
I only know the scale, of the piano on which I play my life
I only have one weapon, the words I am writing you
But my love, Is way stronger
Than lightning and the north wind
And even after, after the autumn
I might still be loving you
I am a bad student, to life lessons
I only believe in dreams
Which I invent at the bottom of my nights
The day takes them away from me, and leaves me misunderstood
But my love, Is way stronger
Than lightning and the north wind
And even after, after the autumn
I might still be loving you
Because my love, Is way stronger
Than lightning and the north wind
And even after, after the autumn
I might still be loving you
Yes my love, Is way stronger
Than lightning and the north wind
And even after, after the autumn
I might still be loving you
Still, still, still
Rebellious and submissive
Eyelids lowered
Take off your shirt
Beautiful bride
Love is cherry
And time in a hurry
We will go dance
Another time
As far as it seems to us
Reasonable and crazy
We will go together
Beyond everything
Lend me your mouth
For me to love you a little
Open me your bed
For the love of God
Let me without fear
Come on my knees
To taste your absinth
Drink your sweet wine
Oh laughs and moans
Oh insane words
The crazy lament
Quickly soared
Let's defy the world
And its bans
Your pleasure floods
My delighted mouth
Virtue or permit
By god, I don't care
I lose my semen
In your red sex
Oh moon Pierrot
Oh mounts and marvels
Here is my quill
that is falling asleep
And like a she-wolf
With children sensitive to cold
The night covers us up
With its blue coat
Rebellious and submissive
Weary eyelids
Put your shirt back
Beautiful bride
Love is cherry
And the time passed
We will go dance
Another time
Original Title: "Ballade de la visite au bout du monde"
Year: 1980
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.
Original Title: "Brise Marine"
Year: 1980
Text: Stéphane Mallarmé
The flesh is sad, alas! and I have read all the books.
To flee! Over there, to flee! I feel that some birds are drunk
of being among the unknown foam and the skies!
Nothing, nor the old gardens reflected by the eyes
Will hold that heart that is getting drenched in the sea
Oh nights! Nor the deserted brightness of my lamp
On the empty paper that whiteness defends
And nor the young woman breast-feeding her child.
I will leave! Steamer swinging your masts,
Set sails for an exotic nature!
A boredom, sorry by the cruel hopes,
Still believes into the supreme farewell of the handkerchiefs!
And, maybe, the masts, inviting the thunderstorms
Are of those that a wind tilts over the wreckings
Lost, without mast, without mast, nor fertile islets...
But, Oh my heart, hear the songs of the sailors
A nice reverse, I park my vocation against the sidewalk.
The door bangs with a good soothing noise.
The faith chips a little inevitably, in the end, in places
But we still start up first time even when it's cold.
A few steps in the street. I sign at the bottom of the sweetness of things
I make my muses piss, I converse with pollens.
Happy or unhappy, sad or gay, but does it really matter?
I expect news from myself. I do not grow impatient.
It's crazy how cushy we are when we are alone
And tranquil when others aren't there.
I plunge in the apartment from which I overhang the world.
I shut myself up in my compass. I head for myself.
Everything at its place, I come, I go, I reign, I roam.
I take care of the passing time and I set its thermostat.
Naked more or less, pursuing my works, without haste about myself
And my connections with hedonism and with myself
I am so well, so naked and so myself
I am missing one verse to finish this rhyme. It does not make me lose my head.
It's crazy how cushy we are when we are alone
And tranquil when others aren't there.
I settle my sheets and to bed, without regrets, without hate, without anyone.
I think about what healthy people, you should think so, do not think about.
I pull at the opium pipe delivered by God very secretly
To all those who make the request And without any charge.
And then a bit like every evening, I tell myself my role
In the Little Big Horn case and the one of the Blue Train
In passing, I still write one or two verses very beautiful, very pious
Like: "In how many lives, have you lived, Elisabeth"
It's crazy how cushy we are when we are alone
And tranquil when others aren't there.
What is great above all is that Elisabeth does not answer me
She is elsewhere, she is already sleeping without a doubt, gloomy and beautiful
And complaining of the lack of tenderness in someone else's arms
Not loved like she should be by someone else
What is great above all is that Elisabeth does not answer me
She is elsewhere, she is already sleeping without a doubt, gloomy and beautiful
And complaining of the lack of tenderness in someone else's arms
Me, holding my scepter in my hand, I fall asleep in my crown
It's crazy how cushy we are when we are alone
And tranquil when others aren't there.
Mother sing to me the song
of childhood and hope
That you were singing so well, song
At our home, over there, in the other world
Mother sing to me the song
Forgotten page of another age
The fairies there to the virgin were speaking
Fingers running on a work
Mother sing to me the song
of childhood and hope
We were bathing in a mirror
Where small boats with painted sails
Loaded with sprays and children
Landed on blue beaches
Mother sing to me the song
Dead, my child, is the song
I want to sleep, mother sing
My child, my memory is dead
And your voice that is so beautiful
Don't think about it no more, it's broken
My eyes are dry and the streams dried up
And my unfaithful arms bruised
And love is withered
And the songs who cares about them
Mother, my eyes do not see you anymore
I wear off in this way like a wave
Where are you mother, sing!
I wear off in this way, like a wave
I never sleep like I used to
I wear off in this way, like a wave
I never hear the song
and it is wearing off as well, the song
Original Title: "Je te rencontrerai dans un rêve inversé"
Year: 1980
I'll meet you in a reversed dream
compared to the motion of the rains and tides
Maybe we'll love each other, we have no clue
What's the point to assume that everything is distorted
Nothing ever goes well.
I'll see you, you'll be laid on the road, far to the front
In the song of the wipers never completely in rythm, and you in front
placed high over the zip skirt that splits on the front
Forest parted on each side
And you up there, in front
It's at that time that you come back from your secret lives
Where have you been germinating?
If you hear me, get down from your air mattress
There are no houses at the end of the road
There is the road there in front
Flats we occupy, we desert
Corridors like loves
And the road, there in front
I'll meet you in our life that is always reversed
like a dream
Maybe we'll love each other, we have no clue
You'll get in the car with your sad look and your sex
Your white skin and everything that is needed for the harm
And rain will cover us.
I found the old crack back in the hull
Dampness oozing out like the eternal poison
I cried, seated, the head against the compartment
On the other side the engine was beating his deep song
The one who comes from childhood and whose low frequencies are always right
Where are you going to drop your bag
make a bed with your tears
There was hanging in that place a smell of asphalt and urine
Carved accross the wound a name could be distinguished
An illusion or a message or a trademark.
The world was passing against the portholes, slowly like a world
The pretentious facades were crumbling in the blind spots.
We were seeing faces of women, frozen and thoughtful
Marking the mist like immature winter suns.
I do not know why I'm fighting
The ship is taking me into dawn
Toward the high sea of course like every morning
I find myself making my nasty traffic in an indistinct port
You have to pay in cash in strong currency and with a smile
I do not know why I'm fighting
I cried in the scorching heat
The world is beautiful
Women give themselves seeming to forget themselves
Our victories are in front of us
That are holding out their hands to us
Where are you going to drop your bag
make a bed with your tears
The empty place in the bed
Which one of us has lost the other?
Why are you leaving?
Our love is at the end of the Maulne
And giving back lost meadows
Why are you leaving?
Why are you leaving?
Why so far?
Where are you going?
Why alone?
Where are you going?
The empty place in my eyes
Which one of us is tearing the other one?
Where are you going?
I loved without ever understanding anything
People pass me without seeing me
Where are you going?
Why are you leaving?
Why so far?
Where are you going?
Why alone?
Where are you going?
The empty place in my life
Which one of us was guilty?
We do not know
I was not your ennemy
We didn't see evil come
We do not know
Why are you leaving?
Why so far?
Where are you going?
Why alone?
Where are you going?
Why are you leaving?
Why so far?
Where are you going?
When are you coming back?
For ever, it does not exist
