Juliette Gréco - Je hais des dimanches (English translation)

Proofreading requested
English translation

I hate Sundays

Every day of the week
is hollow and sounds like it.
Even worse than the week,
there is the conceited Sunday
that strives to look rosy
and act generous,
the Sunday that imposes itself
as a day of bliss.
I hate Sundays!
I hate Sundays!
In the street there is the crowd,
millions of passer-bys,
this crowd that flows
with an indifferent air,
this crowd that walks
like for a funeral,
the funeral of a Sunday
that has been long dead.
I hate Sundays!
I hate Sundays!
You work all week and on Sundays too,
maybe that's why I'm prejudiced.
Honey, if only you were by my side,
I'd be willing to like all that I dislike.
The spring Sundays
all cluttered up with sunlight
that shine yesterday's
worries away.
Sundays full of blue sky
and children laughters,
full of strolling lovers
with their shy vows,
and flowers on the branches.
And flowers on the branches.
And amidst the rush
of people who unhurriedly
roam the streets,
we would make our way
together, hand in hand,
without trying to know
what tomorrow,will bring,
hoping for nothing
but more Sundays.
But more Sundays.
And all the law-abiding citizens,
reputedly right-thinking1,
and those who aren't
yet want us to think they are,
going to church
just because it's the done thing,
putting on a clean shirt
and a nice suit,
those who sleep twenty hours in a row
because nothing prevents them doing so,
those who wake up early
to go fishing,
those who will visit
the cemetery that day,
and those who make love
because they have nothing to do,
they all would envy our happiness,
just like I envy them
for having actual Sundays,
for liking Sundays,
for believing in Sundays,
while I hate Sundays...
  • 1. "bien-pensant" can also mean "self-righteous" or "reactionary". A kind of nuspeak word that can be a praise or an insult depending on the context Regular smile
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Submitted by petit élève on Tue, 12/09/2017 - 04:34
Added in reply to request by EddieA
Author's comments:

Mmm... Not the best lyrics Aznavour ever wrote, in my opinion.
The last single-sentence stanza feels as cumbersome as a truckload of bricks in French to begin with. I struggled to produce something readable out of it.
I would gladly have some native second opinion on this one.

The author of translation requested proofreading.
It means that he/she will be happy to receive corrections, suggestions etc about the translation.
If you are proficient in both languages of the language pair, you are welcome to leave your comments.

Je hais des dimanches