Francis Cabrel — Le petit gars song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Le petit gars" by Francis Cabrel.
Lyrics
Derrière la rivière du père
On voyait s’agiter la cité
Et faner les fleurs solitaires
Dans les parterres grillagés
Le petit gars là-haut sur sa colline
Venait les contempler en paix…
Ces enfants qui jouent en plein air
Entre la route et la voie ferrée
Ils vont finir par manquer d’air
Ou ils vont s'électrocuter
Le petit gars là-haut sur sa colline
Venait les contempler en paix…
Mais le petit gars ne comprenait rien
Allongé sous les arbres il se trouvait bien
Attendant tranquille la récolte du vin
A quoi servent leurs belles manières
Si leurs mots sont empoisonnés
A quoi servent leurs têtes fières
Puisqu’ils marchent le dos courbé
Le petit gars là-haut sur la colline
Venait les contempler en paix
Mais derrière la rivière du père
On voyait s’agiter la cité
Et tourner les ogres d’affaires
Dans les tours de verre climatisées
Le petit gars là-haut sur la colline
Venait les contempler en paix
Mais le petit gars ne comprenait rien
Allongé sous les arbres il se trouvait bien
Attendant tranquille que cuise son pain
Mais le petit gars ne comprenait rien
Où s’en vont mourir ces pauvres pantins
Allongés sous les arbres ils seraient si bien
Attendant tranquilles que coule le vin
Lyrics translation
Behind the father's River
We could see the city buzzing
And fade the lonely flowers
In the mesh flowerbeds
The little guy up there on his Hill
Came to contemplate them in peace…
Those kids playing outdoors
Between the road and the railway
They will eventually run out of air
Or they'll electrocute themselves
The little guy up there on his Hill
Came to contemplate them in peace…
But the little guy did not understand anything
Lying under the trees it stood well
Quietly waiting for the wine harvest
What good are their manners
If their words are poisoned
What are their proud heads for
Since they walk the bent back
The little guy up there on the hill
Came to contemplate them in peace
But behind the father's River
We could see the city buzzing
And turn the business ogres
In the air-conditioned glass towers
The little guy up there on the hill
Came to contemplate them in peace
But the little guy did not understand anything
Lying under the trees it stood well
Quiet waiting for him to bake his bread
But the little guy did not understand anything
Where will these poor pantins die
Lying under the trees they would be so well
Quiet waiting for the wine to flow