Текст и перевод песни Tex Lecor - Gaston Labrousse (Live)

Gaston Labrousse (Live)

Sortait de sa vache au début de mai
Avec les ours pis les siffleux
Les corneilles fraîchement arrivées
Faisaient leurs nids tout près de chez eux
Connaissait le vent, connaissait le bois,
La biche, l'outarde, le carcajou
Le loup, la grive et les grandes oies,
La migration du caribou

Gaston Labrousse

De Ville-Marie à Mont-Laurier
Savait les sources et les cours d'eau
L'odeur, la trace du gibier, le bois,
La coulée, son canot
Partait en froid, revenait en doux chargé
De fourrures et de soleil
Y semait le printemps partout
Avec son rire et sa bouteille

Un jour que l'automne était au seuil
Et que le vent pinçait ses doigts
De sa forêt il fit son deuil,
L'amour remplaça le carquois
Lui qui n'avait jamais connu
Que les caresses d'un juillet
Pour elle il se serait pendu
Aux quatre coins de son nordêt

Ou l'air est jaune à respirer,
Ou le ruisseau sort du robinet
Il est resté longues années
À se crever pour celle qu'il aimait
Un beau matin sans dire un mot,
Il ouvrit la porte de sa cage
Partit retrouver ses bouleaux,
Son lac et son grand vent du large

A son indienne qui l'attendait
Il remit son coeur en lambeaux
Reprit sa trappe et ses collets,
Sa tuque et sa chemise à carreaux
La loutre, la truite et le castor
Ont repris la course à nouveau
Et quand le vent sera du bon bord,
Y'aura de la fourrure dans le canot

Gaston Labrousse (Live)

He came out of his cabin at the beginning of May
With the bears and the whistling birds
The crows, newly arrived
Were making nests nearby
He knew the wind, he knew the woods,
The deer, the bustard, the wolverine
The wolf, the thrush and the great geese,
The caribou migration

Gaston Labrousse

From Ville-Marie to Mont-Laurier
He knew the springs and the watercourses
The scent and tracks of the game, the wood,
The portage, his canoe
Would leave in the cold, return in the warm weather, laden
With furs and sunshine
He spread spring everywhere
With his laughter and his bottle

One day when autumn was at the door
And the wind pinched his fingers
He mourned the loss of his forest
Love replaced the quiver
He who had never known
Anything but the caress of July
For her he would have hanged himself
From the four corners of his north wind

Where the air is yellow to breathe
Where the stream comes out of the faucet
He stayed for many years
Toiling for the one he loved
One fine morning without a word
He opened the door of his cage
Went off to find his birches
His lake and his great wind from the sea

To his Indian woman who was waiting for him
He gave his heart in pieces
Took back his traps and his snares,
His tuque and his checked shirt
The otter, the trout and the beaver
Have started running again
And when the wind blows fair
There'll be fur in the canoe