Текст и перевод песни Claude Nougaro - Rock à Renaud

Rock à Renaud

Il porte un nom de bagnole
Mais il préfère les bateaux
En c'qui concerne la fiole
Y a du Viking et y a du poulbot
Autour du cou l'chiffon rouge
Le petit foulard sec noué
Que son grand-père lui a donné
Paraît qu'son grand-père, c'était un rouge
Un homme taillé comme un roc
Belle gueule et fière mine
Qui avait longtemps joué du rock
Avec sa pioche-pioche-pioche dans la mine

Il est tatoué, vous savez
Les yeux savamment délavés
Le petit prince des gros pavés

Il nous raconte ses patrouilles
Vous sentez la rime venir
C'est vrai, l'a pas froid aux couilles
Renaud, il a de qui tenir
Il fait des raids dans les zones
Il disparaît dans des fugues
Se glisse comme un chat jaune
Dans un décor de poubelles qui fument
Il porte un nom d'chevalier
Comme dans les contes médiévaux
D'seigneur qui se fait saigner
Quand sonne le cor à Roncevaux

Il est tatoué vous savez
Les yeux savamment délavés
Le petit prince des gros pavés

Sa guitare en as de pique
Il casse le carreau des cœurs
Gagne un trèfle astronomique
Avec ses gros tubes vélomoteurs
Mais c'Bonaparte destroy
Le voilà revenu tout cocoy
Lorsque dans ses bras se love
Sa Lolita sans Nabokov

Alors, il change de refrain
Il a son âme sous la main
L'voyou devant sa voyelle
Par une flèche d'arc-en-ciel se sent le cœur transpercé
Ainsi s'poursuit l'odyssée d'messire Renaud Séchan
À qui j'dédie ce chant

Il est tatoué vous savez
Les yeux savamment délavés
Il en pince pour les pavés

Rock for Renaud

He carries a car's name
But he prefers boats
As for the alcohol
There's a Viking and a poulbot
Around his neck, the red scarf
The small, loosely tied silk scarf
That his grandfather gave him
They say his grandfather was a revolutionary
A man built like a rock
Handsome and proud
Who had played rock and roll for a long time
With his pickaxe in the mine

He's tattooed, you know
His eyes expertly faded
The little prince of the cobblestones

He tells us about his patrols
You can feel the rhyme coming
It's true, he has no fear
Renaud takes after his grandfather
He raids the neighborhoods
He disappears into escapes
Slips like a tabby cat
Into a setting of smoking trash cans
He carries a knight's name
Like in medieval tales
Of a lord who bleeds
When the horn sounds at Roncevaux

He's tattooed, you know
His eyes expertly faded
The little prince of the cobblestones

His guitar shaped like a spade
He breaks the hearts of the ladies
Wins an astronomical clover
With his big motorcycle hits
But he's a defeated Bonaparte
Here he comes back, all wobbly
When in his arms nestles
His Lolita without Nabokov

Then, he changes his chorus
He has his soul in his hand
The hooligan before his vowel
Feels his heart pierced by an arrow of rainbow
Thus continues the odyssey of Sir Renaud Séchan
To whom I dedicate this song

He's tattooed, you know
His eyes expertly faded
He has a crush on the cobblestones