Paroles et traduction Les Prêtres - Mon vieux

Mon vieux

Dans son vieux pardessus rape
Il s′en allait l'hiver, l′ete
Dans le petit malin frileux
Mon vieux
Y'avait qu'un dimanche par semaine
Les autres jours c′etait la graine
Qu′il allait gagner comme on peut
Mon vieux
L'ete, on allait voir la mer
Tu vois c′etait pas la misere
C'etait pas non plus le paradis
Tant pis
Dans son vieux pardessus rape
Il a pris pendant des annees
Le meme autobus de banlieue
Mon vieux
Le soir, en rentrant du boulot
Il s′asseyait sans dire un mot
Il etait du genre silencieux
Mon vieux
Les dimanches etaient monotones
On ne recevait jamais personne
Ca le rendait pas malheureux
Je crois, mon vieux
Dans son vieux pardessus rape
Les jours de paie, quand il rentrait
On l'entendait gueuler un peu
Mon vieux
Nous, on connaissait la chanson
Tout y passait: bourgeois, patrons
La gauche, la droite, meme le bon dieu
Avec mon vieux
Chez nous, y′avait pas la tele
C'est dehors que j'allai chercher
Pour quelques heures l′evasion
Je sais, c′est con
Dire que j'ai passe des annees
A cote de lui sans le regarder
On a a peine ouvert les yeux
Nous deux
J′aurais pu, c'etait pas benin
Faire avec lui un bout de chemin
Ca l′aurait peut-etre rendu heureux
Mon vieux
Mais quand on a juste quinze ans
On n'a pas le coeur assez grand
Pour y loger toutes ces choses-la
Tu vois
Maintenant qu′il est loin d'ici
En pensant a tout ca je me dis
J'aimerais bien qu′il soit pres de moi
Papa

My Old Man

In his old ragged overcoat
He would go, winter and summer,
In the cold, misty mornings
My old man
There was just one Sunday a week
The other days it was little money
That he would earn as he could
My old man
In the summer, we would go to the sea
So you see, it was not misery
It was not paradise either
Too bad
In his old ragged overcoat
He rode for years
The same suburban bus
My old man
In the evening, coming home from work
He would sit down without saying a word
He was the silent type
My old man
Sundays were monotonous
We never received anyone
It did not make him unhappy
I think, my old man
In his old ragged overcoat
On payday, when he came home
You could hear him yelling a little
My old man
We knew the song
Everything was mentioned: bourgeois, bosses
The left, the right, even the good Lord
With my old man
We did not have a TV at home
It was outside that I would go to look for
An escape for several hours
I know, it's foolish
To say that I spent years
Next to him without looking at him
We hardly opened our eyes
The two of us
I could have, it was not insignificant
Walked a little bit of the road with him
It would have perhaps made him happy
My old man
But when you are only fifteen
You do not have a big enough heart
To accommodate all those things
You see
Now that he is far away from here
When I think about all this, I tell myself
I would like him to be near me
Dad