English Translation of "Mon Ego" by M (Matthieu Chedid)

 M (Matthieu Chedid) - Mon Ego Lyrics

♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ 

Number one, I hold on, 

Like a dumb icon

With an aluminum look, 

A minimum, a minimum 

Megalomaniac costume 

Without even a melody, 

Satan temps me, but I escape in time, 

Right away… right away 

I’m going to have a few words… 

A few words with my ego!  

I’ve only thought about myself for months, 

Thought only about indulging myself*,

The slightest reflection for me 

The smallest puddle is for my face 

I’m going to have a few words… 

A few words with my ego!  

Right away!

♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ 

*Right, so to “gaze at one’s navel” is indulge oneself or be egocentric or self obosessed. The literal translation of this line is “my navel turns from my eye”. So he’s gazing at his navel so much that his navel is looking away.  

English Translation of "Cuisses nues, bottes de cuir" by Philippe Nicaud

 Philippe Nicaud - Cuisses nues, bottes de cuir

Philippe Nicaud – Naked thighs, leather boots

♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ 

Naked thighs, leather boots 

Mini-dressed, cropped to your pussy 

Hindu necklaces*, cashmere breasts

You walk around 

With nothing on underneath 

Of your belt 

That grips your loins

Eyes wander 

Hands dream

Oh, naked thighs, leather boots

Mini-dressed, cropped to your pussy 

Do you follow fashion… For your own pleasure?

Or are you looking to drive me crazy?

Stop… shortening everything 

For us men, it’s martyrdom 

Naked thighs, leather boots 

Cropped to your pussy, angora breasts 

 You don’t care… about their thighs 

But one fine day, watch yourself 

A middle class man will become a Borgia**

And restrain you in his arms 

Ah, naked thighs, leather boots 

Cloth boots, boots to shine 

Lamé boots, for the evening 

Walking boots, for the morning 

In order to keep you, my erotic 

I would give you the entire boutique

Naked thighs, leather boots 

Naked thighs, leather boots 

Naked thighs, leather boots  

♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ 

*”Colliers hindous” could be translated to hindu necklaces, literally, but it does appear in English as “collier hindus”, referring to a style of necklace made popular by Cartier. It originally debuted in 1936 but the so-called “hindu” style gained a resurgence in the 60’s. 

**Obviously this line is pretty dark, but he’s basically saying because women are dressing so provocatively that they’re going to cause a mild mannered “bourgeousie” to start acting like a member of the house of Borgia, who were known for adultery, murder, incest, and other crimes in order to entertain themselves and stay in power. 

English Translation of "Les Roche Martin - C'est Toi Qui As Gâché Notre Vie" By Les Roche Martin

Les Roche Martin - C'est Toi Qui As Gâché Notre Vie

Les Roche Martin – It’s You who has Ruined our Life

Alone with you two 

I was very happy 

Two women for me 

I was the lord 

Why are you telling me 

It’s you who…?

Why are you telling me 

It’s you who…?

Why are you telling me 

It’s you who…?

It’s you who has ruined our life?

I hope in any case 

That you don’t believe 

That I’m going to marry 

Either one of you, ever

Why are you telling me 

It’s you who…?

Why are you telling me 

It’s you who…?

Why are you telling me 

It’s you who…?

It’s you who has ruined our life?

Why are you telling me 

It’s you who…?

Why are you telling me 

It’s you who…?

Why are you telling me 

It’s you who…?

It’s you who has ruined our life?

English Translation of "A Tout Berzinge" by Jacques Dutronc

Song: A Tout Berzinge 

Artist: Jacques Dutronc

♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ 

 In 5 seconds 

I drink my “Blanc sec”,*

At full speed

I flatter myself,

At full volume

I sing my hits

You’re rushed, pressurized 

Life goes quick wherever you live 

You have to charge forward in order to survive 

And belong to the elite corps 

Full steam ahead 

I give them flowers, 

At top speed 

I celebrate them, 

At full throttle 

I put back on my clothes 

But don’t think that with girls 

I’m a pressure cooker**

Because in reality, with girls, 

I’m a “coco minute”***

In a cafeteria

I eat a steak, 

In a snack bar 

I drink cognac, 

In the pharmacies****

That’s where I flirt 

But don’t think that with girls 

I’m a pressure cooker**

Because in reality, with girls, 

I’m a “coco minute”***

In less than two 

I tell them, “I want you”, 

In two turns 

I’ve made three moves 

In five seconds 

They’re soaked

I’m in a hurry, hurry, hurry 

My life goes fast, very fast, too fast 

I have to charge forward without hesitation. 

*A type of white wine. 

**In French a pressure cooker is called a “cocotte minute”, or “minute cooker”. Which leads us to the next point…

***So I’m not entirely sure what this means, it seems to be a play on words that I’m going to struggle to explain. Basically from the previous line you’re expecting him to make a joke like he doesn’t last a minute, he last longer. Instead, he says “coco minute”, which is literally “coconut minute”. The play on words is two fold: first, coco is shorter than cocotte, making it seem like it’s even shorter, which is humorous. Second, cocotte is a very female word, both grammatically and in use, and can be used to apply to mistresses and prostitutes. Coco is very masculine, so it can be used to refer to a male lover, or as you would use “guy” in English (as well as coke (the white kind) and commies(the red kind), which we’re not going to expand on here). So it’s like saying “you think I last a minute cause I’m in a rush? No, I last a manly minute”. Something like that. 

Maybe someone smarter than me can correct me. 

****He says "dans les drugs" here, which literally is "in the drugs". Around this time the word "drugstore" was popularly used instead of "pharmacie", so I went with a slang interpretation, but I could be wrong with my interpretation. 

English Translation of "Le Responsable" by Jacques Dutronc

Song: Le Responsable 

Artist: Jacques Dutronc

♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ 

I’m worried, I’m bored 

I’m in trouble, I’m tormented 

I have no morale, I have no money 

I have no luck, I have no friends 

I’m unlucky, I have taxes

I have hay sickness, I have a toothache

But I don’t want to become someone new

Because I like the hassle 

I am a responsible man 

I don’t hide my head in the sand 

I don’t want to sing like a grandfather 

In life, you shouldn’t worry 

Because if I worry myself today 

It’s because yesterday, he laughed

And tomorrow if I have kids 

I want them to have happy lives 

The more worries I have, the better it is 

I whisk them away like whey 

What I love more than anything is worrying 

I feast on it all the time 

But I also love disasters 

That place my life in an apostrophe 

When things are going well I’m unhappy 

When things are going bad I’m very happy 

I am a responsible man 

I don’t hide my head in the sand 

I don’t want to sing like a grandfather 

In life, you shouldn’t worry 

And I want to sing on the contrary 

In life you have to worry 

In order to always be united 

With people like me who see clearly 

I am a responsible man

I am a responsible man

I am a responsible man

I am a responsible man

♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ 

*I'm not sure what this means and it doesn't appear to exist on the internet. It's not hay fever, it may be an outdated term that I'm unable to research from 70 years ago. 

x

Translation of "Une question qui se pose" by Evy

What can I do

Time takes a bite out of life

I can't do anything

I love going out at night

It's a question,

A question that arises

But yes, but yes, yes

To cook

To be a homemaker

It's a routine

That makes my heart ache

It's a question,

A question that arises

But yes, but yes, yes

Put away your records

Warnings when I leave the house

Play your music

A little less loud

Wax your shoes

Go, sew your buttons

That's what I hear at home

Every Saturday

When everyone is lying

I meet my friend

But one day I'll get stuck

It's a question,

A question that arises

But yes, but yes, yes

But last night I saw my mom crying for teh first time

And suddenly I realized it's because of me

She will never know how much the sight had an effect on me

But I have to change to stop her crying

It's a question,

A question that arises

But yes, but yes, yes

Yes, yes

Translation of "L'histoire D'une Heure" by Thomas Fersen

Song: L'histoire D'une Heure 

Artist: Thomas Fersen

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♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪

This is the story of an hour
Lost on the dock of flowers,
An hour to dream
Of missing objects found
An hour to wait for you
To watch the sale of
Some cut flowers
Some May flowers

This is the story of an hour
Complacently lost
An hour to dream
Of your arrival
An hour in the street
To hang around
To pace up and down
And some entrechats*

What a funny ballet
My little game
Intrigues the chickens
On the goldsmith's dock
A blaring whistle,
A pair of bracelets,
And under lock and key,
A crazy story:

"This is the story of an hour, gentlemen,
I'll explain to you
This is the story of an hour
Of being lost on the dock."
It's the story of a night
Lost in a hole
To make confessions
The violets in the eyes

They're looking for a killer
And me, the dear saint
My fate is sublime
I've lost the hour of the crime
Whoever finds themselves
An hour ahead,
Waiting an hour,
Will really want to give it back to me

This is the story of an hour
Lost on the dock of flowers,
An hour to dream
Of missing objects found
And in my prison
I sing my song
Of my lost hours**
That I no longer count


*This is a dance step where one jumps into the air and clicks one's heels.
**Double meaning. Of my lost hours, or in my spare time.

Translation of ''Je Veux Te Voir'' by Yelle

Song: Je Veux Te Voir

Artist: Yelle

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♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ 

Cuizinier (The Chef) with your little sex surrounded by red pubes

I really can't believe that you actually believe we want you

I don't believe it would be true even in the dark, even if you keep your pajamas on 

Even if you keep on your “bathrobe”, a has-been t-shirt  

Keep your shirt on, it'll limit the damage, bastard

I want to see you 

In a porno flick 

In action with your dick 

Its shape either potatoes or fries 

To know everything

About your anatomy 

About your cousin Teki 

And your fetish accessories 

Cuizi, what's this?

Your favorite position?

Your Olympic performances? 

But you don't have anything orgasmic 

You're completely naked 

Under your apron

Ready to strip 

But I must admit nothing's going to work 

You dream of a Hummer Fluo 

Designed by Akroe 

But you don't have a license

You always take the metro 

Superstar for one night, after that, your life returns to normal 

You don't need sunglasses to keep people from recognizing you 

Your proof of insurance waits for you, dude 

It's not from your flying lyrics

I've manage to make you 

One with my scanner 

There's no cover charge tonight 

It's the only way to get anyone to come

So us girls go for a drive 

Yeah we're going to Chippendale’s 

We hadn't intended to spend the night with some jokers 

We would like see some pecks, some men hung like bulls 

Your posters of Lil' Jon covered up those of Magic Johnson 

Your body is too crunk in order to pull off dunks 

Cuiziner it's you that I want to see 

That I want to see tonight 

Ridiculed by a girl who raps better than you 

I don't have enough fingers to count in the room 

All these coiffed girls like me who know that you're just pubes 

Translation of ''Fanny Ardant Et Moi'' by Vincent Delerm

Song: Fanny Ardant Et Moi

Artist: Vincent Delerm

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♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ 

We listen to the Gregorian chant, 

She scarcely speaks and I say nothing 

We have a relationship like that 

Fanny Ardant and me 

I spend the evening with Sylvain 

During which she checks out the wallpaper 

We stay separated 

Me and Fanny Ardant 

She sits on the shelf 

Between an Eric Holder book,

A white IKEA candlestick holder,

And a postcard from Maria 

She is always completely black and white 

She no longer says “Finally, Sunday!”

Since I hang around my parents' house 

Every weekend 

Fanny Ardant 

I don't speak to her about the college girls of Jussieu* 

She doesn't speak too much of Depardieu 

Yes, we avoid those subjects 

Fanny Ardant and me 

There's something in her eyes 

Which rebuke me for returning too late 

She wants me to be home all the time

Of course Fanny Ardant 

She sits on the shelf 

Between an Eric Holder book,

A white IKEA candlestick holder,

And a postcard from Maria 

She is always completely black and white 

She no longer says “Finally, Sunday!”

Since I hang around my parents' house 

Every weekend 

Fanny Ardant 

We listen to the Gregorian chant, 

She scarcely speaks and I say nothing 

We have a relationship like that 

Fanny Ardant and me

*Campus of a university in Paris. 

Translation of ''Aux Champs-Elysée'' by Joe Dassin

Song: Aux Champs-Elysée

Artist: Joe Dassin

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♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ 

I was walking down the avenue, my heart open to the unknown 

I felt like saying hello to anyone 

Anyone, and it was you, I said whatever came to mind

Just talking to you was enough to win you over

At the Champs-Elysées, at the Champs-Elysées

In the sun, beneath the rain, at noon or midnight 

There's everything you desire at the Champs-Elysées

You told me ''I have a meeting place in a basement with some madmen 

Who live with a guitar in their hand, from night to morning.'' 

So I went along with you, we sang, we danced 

And we didn't even think of kissing 

Last night two strangers and this morning on the avenue, 

Two lovers completely dazed by the long night 

And of the Étoile à la Concorde, an orchestra with a thousand strings 

All the birds at daybreak sing of love