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- Source:
- http://www.last.fm/user/DeathOfBalance/journal/2009/08/08/2xa96l_gris_-_il_%C3%A9tait_une_for%C3%AAt..._english_translation
- translator: DeathOfBalance
- hard to link to because of the darn ....... in the URL makes for bad copy and pasting and archive.is is giving me a 502 error on this page.
- DeathOfBalance
- Journal → Gris - Il était une forêt... English translation
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- 8 Aug 2009, 04:15
- Well, I decided to translate the lyrics of Gris' wonderful album Il était une forêt... for all you people who love this album but don't speak French. I did this to the best of my knowledge and capacities but I am no expert translator, so feel free to point out if there is something that does not feel quite right to you. Also, keep in mind that a lot of the French language's intrinsic beauty is lost in translation, but at least you should get a good grasp of Gris' lyrical themes in general.
- 1. There Was a Forest…
- There was a forest
- Where mankind's cupidity
- Was the mere shadow of a an oppressive past
- There was a forest
- Where the trees' bark
- Reflected the beauty of a lost world
- There was a forest
- Where the night's song
- Awakened the sun of another life
- There was a forest
- Where the skies' sanctuary
- Watered the dried up lands of the gods
- There was a forest…
- There was a forest…
- There was a forest…
- There was a forest…
- 2. The Reception of the Happy People
- Be quiet… be quiet… shut up…
- Emphatic larvae… you defecate with your mouths… and you drown me in your dejections…
- To disappear… to disappear elsewhere…
- Far… very far… too far…
- It is a vicious orchestra that plays its popular symphony tonight
- It knows how to strum the sensitive strings of the sleeping slugs
- These foul and dribbling wounds that, tonight, drive me
- To join, in spite of myself, those dumping ground musicians
- It is a damned orchestra that accompanies my suicide
- The violinists are mutilated and dressed in grey trousers; their eye-sockets are empty
- The woodwind players are tramps, brown and drugged to the bone
- Their burning lips, as they blow into their reeds, produce rattling sounds
- The timpanist bludgeons children with his erected genitals
- The brass instruments splutter the echoes of the dying herd's laughter
- The cymbals relate the disgusting rape of an exemplary woman
- Accompanied by a schizophrenic man with a bright snare drum
- The height of horror is the sight of the audience of those demonic harmonies
- A contemptible and repulsive nation, serve them all the ammonia
- With a crepuscular gaze, they assist to the eradication of the beautiful values
- But they pay not to see well, they leave aside their own hearts
- The obnoxious armor of a scale with sordid agitations
- Imposes atrocious nuances of flats on the Ode to Joy
- Their shadows speak and mate around my brain
- Be damned, bastard beasts, I will drown you in my sobs
- But in this dissonant crowd where the abhorrent madness
- Poisons everybody as soon as they sit down at the table
- The wisest is ironically the conductor, austere metronome
- That is my hanged body, swinging the measure at the gates of hell
- 3. Scar
- So many times I have wanted to put an end
- To this impenetrable darkness that is life
- To this lake of tears and blood that is my bruised existence
- So many times, I have seen the shadow of this rope
- On the wall of my overburdened and grey remorse
- Inviting me to its macabre dance
- The one that would free me of the rough sea of my madness
- My wounds are bleeding once again
- Bringing me back into the limbs of the past
- Violently hammering at my heart
- Shooting its venom into the deepest of its dungeons
- Yet I can never resist
- Seeing your gracious and distorted face again
- You, monster of a thousand cruel shapes
- The one that men name and fear, eternal unhappiness
- Kill me, kill me, I beg you
- Rip apart my sickening and moldy flesh
- Torture my head, impose your pain on it
- Until death dries out my tears
- Bring my vulnerability to agony
- Chain hate and contempt to my martyr
- Consume my essence, lead it to the throes of anxiety
- Drag my heart to the gallows and drape me in solitude
- Let me contemplate the cold marble of my tomb
- Abandon myself to this stream that is infected with deep bitterness
- Take me away forever in the limbs of saving extinction
- In Gehenna and in sinister processions
- Scar, lay down your veil on my sick soul
- Bring it horror no more, but beauty instead
- Offer it a beauty so splendid that death shall strike who dares contemplate it
- Offer it a beauty so splendid that death shall strike who dares contemplate it…
- 4. Would You Like to Dance?
- I am but the shadow of a shadow, which struts idly
- On the shimmering flagstones of the long and triumphant pavements
- Nobody can believe me, and no one would know how to see me
- I already hear her replying to me: "what about me?"
- You cannot touch me for I bear the worst of infections
- I spread it to all those I love at the will of my impulsions
- I have never wanted to propagate this abhorrent bacterium
- Forgive me; I should never have stayed plastered in your lives
- Why did I have to be possessed of this terrible curse?
- This horrible syndrome that is to love with an unspeakable force
- But above all, why did you love me in return?
- Me, the poor magician who failed his last trick
- Who am I? Where do I come from? Where am I going?
- All of this is as clear to me as a sob in the snow
- The accordion no longer plays its joyful chords
- And it has spit its last sinister note on my head
- Solitude becomes enamored of my heart
- Flayed by my crying musings
- My soul is stabbed by its hundred thousand daggers
- Ripped apart by its countless razors
- What about you? Do you still want to melt into my tumid heart?
- To tell me that you still dance with life as long as it lets you lead?
- The dance floor is more slippery for me who has never been there
- You do not know who I am; me neither, but this is how I am named:
- I am the disguised ugliness and the badly dressed happiness
- I am the cured plague and the slashed joy
- I am the dilapidated cross and the badly forged nail
- I am the atheist Jesus and the wacko Buddha
- 5. Deep Misanthropy
- In the misty forests,
- I have wandered far from your tainted kingdoms
- Under the icy rains,
- I have wandered far from your damned race
- In the dark mountains,
- The winds have caressed my face
- Under the grey and dreary sky,
- My soul rests in eternal sleep
- In solitude, my corpse lies
- Dead far away from your impure lands
- Death in silence…
- 6. The Dryad
- [Instrumental]
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