Paroles et traduction Jean Bertola - Le revenant

Le revenant

Calme, confortable, officiel,
En un mot résidentiel,
Tel était le cimetière où
Cet imbécile avait son trou.
Comme il ne reconnaissait pas
Le bien-fondé de son trépas,
L′a voulu faire - aberration! -
Sa petite résurrection.
Les vieux morts, les vieux "ici-gît",
Les braves sépulcres blanchis,
Insistèrent pour qu'il revînt
Sur sa décision mais en vain.
L′ayant astiquée, il remit
Sur pied sa vieille anatomie,
Et tout pimpant, tout satisfait,
Prit la clef du champ de navets.
Chez lui s'en étant revenu,
Son chien ne l'a pas reconnu
Et lui croque en deux coups de dents
Un des os les plus importants.
En guise de consolation,
Pensa faire une libation,
Boire un coup de vin généreux,
Mais tous ses tonneaux sonnaient creux.
Quand dans l′alcôve il est entré
Embrasser sa veuve éplorée,
Il jugea d′un simple coup d'œil
Qu′elle ne portait plus son deuil.
Il la trouve se réchauffant
Avec un salaud de vivant,
Alors chancelant dans sa foi
Mourut une seconde fois.
La commère au potron-minet
Ramassa les os qui traînaient
Et pour une bouchée de pain
Les vendit à des carabins.
Et, depuis lors, ce macchabée,
Dans l'amphithéâtre tombé,
Malheureux, poussiéreux, transi,
Chante: "Ah! ce qu′on s'emmerde ici"!

The Revenant

Calm, comfortable, official,
In a word: residential.
Such was the cemetery, where
This idiot was given a hole.
Since he refused to recognize
The validity of his death,
He wanted to perform - an aberration! -
His little resurrection.
The old corpses, the old epitaphs,
The fine, whitewashed tombs,
Insisted that he rethink
His decision but in vain.
Having cleaned it, he put
His old anatomy back on its feet,
And all spruce, all satisfied,
He took the key to the turnip field.
Having returned home,
His dog did not recognize him
And crunched in two bites
One of his very important bones.
By way of consolation,
He thought he'd make a libation,
Drink a cup of generous wine,
But all his barrels rang hollow.
When he entered the bedroom
To embrace his weeping widow,
He realized with a simple glance
That she no longer wore her mourning clothes.
He found her warming up
With a living scoundrel,
Then staggering in his faith
Died a second time.
The gossip at dawn
Collected the bones that were scattered about
And for a scrap of bread
Sold them to some medical students.
And ever since, this macabre figure,
Fallen into the amphitheater,
Unfortunate, dusty, chilled to the bone,
Sings: "My, how bored we are here!"