Текст и перевод песни Alain Chamfort - Les jours de moisson

Les jours de moisson

Coulez ce bateau
Coulez cet homme et ses pairs
Coulez ce rafiot
Rendez cet homme à la mer
Coulez ce bateau
Hantés d′ondines et de mots
Coulez ce radeau
Qui coule ses rimes dans son rhum

Rendez aux poissons
Ces passions gâchés à terre
Poisson slitaire
Fruit de ses cales un poison
Rendez aux poissons
Les mystères hantant ses cales
Poisson centenaire
Arrête-t-il ce poison

Coulez ce bateau
Coulez cet homme et ses pairs
Coulez ce rafiot
Rendez cet homme à la mer
Coulez ce bateau
Hantés d'ondines et de mots
Coulez ce radeau
Qui coule ses rimes dans son rhum

Bébé qui pleure, bébé qui rit
Comptant les heures vides de son lit,
Ça passera

Son testament c′est:
Brûler tout car rien de tout
Ne tient plus debout
Son testament: brûlez tout
Son testament sait:
Sa nuit n'a pas de saisons
Son lit n'a pas de Suzon...
Ça passera...

Coulez ce bateau
Coulez cet homme et ses pairs
Coulez ce rafiot
Rendez cet homme à la mer
Coulez ce bateau
Hantés d′ondines et de mots
Coulez ce radeau
Qui coule ses rimes dans son rhum

Les jours de moisson
Viendront avec sa Suzon
Les jours de moisson
Viendront un jour sans poison
Ça passera...

Coulez ce rafiot
Pensèrent un jour les poissons
Ça passera...

Harvest Days

Sink this boat
Sink this man and his peers
Sink this raft
Return this man to the sea
Sink this boat
Haunted by water sprites and words
Sink this raft
Who drowns his rhymes in his rum

Return to the fish
These passions wasted on land
Solitary fish
Fruit of his holds a poison
Return to the fish
The mysteries haunting his holds
Centennial fish
Does he stop this poison

Sink this boat
Sink this man and his peers
Sink this raft
Return this man to the sea
Sink this boat
Haunted by water sprites and words
Sink this raft
Who drowns his rhymes in his rum

Baby who cries, baby who laughs
Counting the empty hours of his bed
It will pass

His testament is:
Burn everything because nothing at all
Stands upright anymore
His testament: burn everything
His testament knows:
His night has no seasons
His bed has no Suzon...
It will pass...

Sink this boat
Sink this man and his peers
Sink this raft
Return this man to the sea
Sink this boat
Haunted by water sprites and words
Sink this raft
Who drowns his rhymes in his rum

Harvest Days
Will come with his Suzon
Harvest Days
Will come one day without poison
It will pass...

Sink this raft
The fish thought one day
It will pass...