Charles Aznavour - La Critique (English translation)

English translation

Critics

They're there, chill, not a single worry
When we panic and from stage fright
All our limbs quiver in front of the audience
With a somber air, they scrutinize from the shadows
Armed of a pen, anything we say or do
Any chink in our armor
From left to right, those who get mandate
To write up a note didn't, I assume
Dip their quill in a holy water stoup.
And what can we do, poor earthen pot 1
Vulnerable and alone, when we die of it
Put our dreams away and shut up?
 
Critics, critics, we can always say
That we don't give a damn, critics, critics
Wreck up your mood and shoot you up
 
Feeling like death, reading these words
That except for extenuating circumstances, look, oh, surprise
Like a wrecking company
If a few panic and get neurasthenia
Go to see therapists, others free themselves
Move heaven and earth, being thank God
The obstinate kind, they're ready to fight
And to be better, look for a new style
Change their profile, implant new hair.
It doesn't change much, there is still a war
Of newspaper articles made of words that hit
Just where it strikes, just where it hurts
 
Critics, critics, we can always say
That we don't give a damn, critics, critics
Wreck up your mood and shoot you up
 
Out of the purgatory of the hardest years
Of starving, of stinking galas
Of back-room nights when we see at last
Our name slotting itself as the show-stopper
It's so heart-warming, then there's the opening night
Where we have to face them down, and control our fear
When the night is done, the die is cast
Already in the hall, the hush fell
Worrying and thick, honey or vitriol.
Whether it's a consecration or a slaughter
I'll have to weather it, thinks hidden backstage
The tortured artist, drenched in their sweat
 
Critics, critics, we can always say
That we don't give a damn, critics, critics
Wreck up your mood and shoot you up
 
But tell yourself that since you took your risks
You chose your camp, you have to admit
That their's is to be, even if they're wrong
The one that informs, even if they deform
Your thoughts, to each their ways
and their skills, to each their job.
Articles pass, others take their places
In the daily papers, that's the way of life
No one cares about it, no one remebers it
When up on the scene the artist plays and outdo himself
Nothing's important, farewell critics
Salute the publics and bravo for the talent.
 
Critics, critics, whether they acclaim you
Or kill you in three words, critics, critics
Give their own opinion it's not necessarily concrete.
In the endgame, only the public is right.
 
  • 1. "le pot de terre contre le pot de fer" or "earthen pot vs iron pot" is a metaphor for the man against the bureaucratic established machine
Submitted by Cat chat on Wed, 11/10/2017 - 19:46
Added in reply to request by vainelämää
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La Critique

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