Jacques Bertin - The dreamer

Original Title: "Le rêveur"
Year: 2002

I was the child who was running less fast
I was the child who was thinking himself less beautiful
I was already living in the empty pages
Where I was looking for water springs

I was the one, at the shoulder of the numbers,
Who was leaning. Who was found back asleep
I knew the voices that in the Dombes
Nest under the thousand ponds

I was afterward
The teen who is being mocked
With the vain gaze
In the city, lost

The man who camps
Out of the way of the era
Poking his doubts
to warm himself up from them

I climbed to the lake
of the solitudes
At the grey case
of the charms without reasons
Where old tunes were beating under the moon
I'd have left some flesh at the brambles of the songs

The low key of mounts of the absences
The emeralds of the forbidden valley
All the beautiful ruins of the silence
All which will not be said

If you ever hang onto my legend
You have to put yourself in my ill's hands
Don't betray, see the wound where pours out
a whole animal world

The mute child found shelted in the man
He is listenning to the rain on the blue roofs
The hearts are collapsed, the steeples ring
What to do without you when it's raining

My life was nothing more but that dream's failure
I do not burn anymore, no, those are my bonds
The unarmed hoofs have stamped me endlessly
I write in the empty sky and you won't read anything there

My life was nothing more but that dream's failure
I do not burn anymore, no, those are my bonds
The unarmed hoofs have stamped me endlessly
I write in the empty sky and you won't read anything there

Jacques Bertin - The young blond girl

Original Title: "La jeune fille blonde"
Year: 2002

Thus here is the age shooting pain
I am not crying thank you
But while the shadow moves forward
I must say thank you

I pay my dues without delay
The wind signs me a receipt
Sing that song or ash
Let it be a buried treasure

Thank you for the ancient joy
Oh old tired country
Those wounds those bleeding scabs
To the people, to the poplar grove

Which dresses its ill, which sings
Old country, set table
Or heavy vans stopped
Full of aromatic tears

Thank you, thank you for the childhood
Our story not worthy of twenty pennies
And for the little France,
For the united hands so sweet

Country, the peace, the trust
Two thousand years of hollow path
The sufferings, their sufferings
Hope and the happy people

Ah the young blond girl
Forever mixed with me
All those struggles, those revolts
And our winged youth

The suffering, the suffering
All that buried sorrow
Then the sap and everything begins
The people, The poplar grove

And the fertile revolt
The nice idea of harmony
Beautiful girl, my harvesting
Ah the beautiful spoilt rotten children

The beautiful wheats, the beautiful arpeggios
The beautiful roundup of words
Our souls were of snow
And your head to the birds songs

Beautiful country, ancient song
The people, The poplar grove
The joy, the joy full the plain
And the young girl in May

Jacques Bertin - When are we going to receive reinforcements?

Original Title: "Quand recevrons-nous des renforts?"
Year: 2002

When are we going to receive reinforcements, my soul?
Remind yourself of the sound of the fifes, suddenly so beautiful
When the column emerged from the big shadow of the big trees
The men hugged each other like crazy and threw their hats

Do you believe that the reinforcements will come? You remember the ambush
Where we lost people and saved our flags
A messenger would have passed on a note through the fence
The night of the life is so long and tough to the soul, the coat

Coat of rains grey and heavy and dirty as well, coat of sorrows
Are we going to finally receive a sign through the lines, over there?
A signal, a tiny light from the infinite where love leads
Is there some water remaining, my soul, for the thirst? Don't weaken!

The reinforcements won't come and we were so lonely in the world
That night when suddenly the sound of the fifes and the drums
As we were going to fall back, made the sky vibrate like a wave
You will remember this, my soul, and will hold until daylight