Sunday, September 30, 2012

Translation of ''Ch'veu Blanc'' by Amélie Les Crayons


Song: Ch'veu Blanc (A White Hair)
Artist: Amélie Les Crayons

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

When I saw you this morning at the bottom of my glass
My eyes full of sleep, finally I said to myself
That you were a reflection who comes, who passes, 
I found myself a goddam fool when I saw you there at noon

After two hours of intense identification 
I finally drew the sad conclusion 
That I was going to have to admit it,
But you grew me on the head 
Without asking me for permission 

It was then that my eyes dove to the bottom of my glass
Well awake this time, you between my fingers 
After the shock, the astonishment, came the anxiety 
And the question: what am I supposed to make of you?

When I imagine in passing that you're the oldest 
Of a flock of brothers who are going to disembark 
Should I sacrifice you,
Or rather protect you, 
In order to slow their arrival?

After two hours of intense meditation 
I've taken to finding you quite cute 
A little touch of white, It's chic with black 
Perhaps it's a bit early, but it's never too late 

I'm content of having found a companion 
Who puts a little bit of kick into my songs 
Not the weight of years, but 
A sign of maturity 
And I tell myself that to console myself 
To reassure myself

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Translation of ''Catégorie Bukowski'' by Vincent Delerm


Song: Catégorie Bukowski (Category Bukowski)
Artist: Vincent Delerm

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

You're one of the girls
Who pick daffodils
I belong to this clan
Who caresses mares
You're a part of the sort 
Who go to Pier Import 
And think it's super lame
To put people in boxes 
You're one of those 
Who already had the chickenpox 
I belong to the race 
Of former class representatives 
You're in the category
Of those who read Bukowski
And find it super lame 
To put people in boxes 

Translation of "Pommes, pommes, pommes" by Thomas Fersen

Pommes, pommes, pommes C'est l'automne Si monotone C'est triste, triste, triste Les feuilles mortes Les flaques d'eau Le ven...