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  • Faf Larage

    Old Man → traduction en anglais

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Old man

1st guy (Shurik'N) :
It's been hours the wind is fitting on my marked and remarkable face
Like an old blues song incised on a broken disc
The eyes staring at the landscape's grey where, for many years, the green
Of the bills is staining the one of the grass, now full of embers
 
2nd guy (Faf Larage)
Time punishes, time makes wiser, makes memories prettier,
Nice precious urban symphony like a sapphire
The important's sighing when the streets let go
For the one who can see them their most beautiful show
 
(Shurik'N)
It's been hours and lives you're sitting on the bench, old as its bones
It's watching over the endless flow of guys lost, looking for a guy to blame
Looking for a burden to carry on, charmed the heads follow, cause they are thirsty,
They let a memory-tear from the time the Beast was hunted
Vice living at her feets, a flow of lava ignorant and blind
Straying in that stream of flesh you find in every house like God
It's been hours the wind strikes his eyes but nothing annoys him, the skies could crumble down, the Eden inspires no hope anymore, the heart is dying in the granary
Seatting here, is watching them going, they go fast to make their web, their sight is veiled and the precious as the individual ends like seen but not met
Lost for such a time, desappointed all the time he knows that
But stays and seats, begging for money on the Heaven's roads
 
(Faf Larage)
He knows in that theater there's only tangible things, scenes repeated every day
Actors play without cheating, natural all in all
Masses of strange names struggling against anonymous
Written on the walls as if they didn't care about laws
Knowing the authors, like every protagonist of every act, some even sleep in the vacuum,
It's been hours and lives !
It's been hours and lives he reads resignation as he walks down the streets
From the dirty blue jeans, from the suit to the dungarees
Cars and bus give the impression that they want to kill the walkers
Anger and joy fight for a piece of bitume
Sometimes we can see ironic banderols walking, it gets harder
And like in a rebroadcast, strenght is used to calm it down
Then will come faces from the old time for a vote
Scorn invocates each glory, and gives to another
The days pass, and people look alike
From tobacco to alcohol, vices are felt and he guesses whey
 
(Shurik'N)
Seating here, he has seen respect fail on marble
Pride makes fun of its guards, of justices with their rusted killer swords
Hands come together looking for the excuse for a life often gasped
True happy ends, it seems to me that's what he came to find
 
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Old Man

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