Loco Locass - La censure pour l'échafaud (English translation)

English translation

Censorship for the Scaffold

On the lookout for the humbugs, for my disastrous and smoking affinities with the hated governments
I sharpen my flutes and refute the "you were this way"
I distrust the "you disregarded the Jews and the fags here
Everything that's different
And had there been ovens here
You surely would have turned them into fried chicken
In fact you are, all of you, here, madmen
Fans of abbot Groulx1 and Jean-Louis Roux2..."
If we listened to them we'd have to burn all which, seen from their pontiff eyes, puts shame on us
Those pontiffs who ask for sacrifice, on an apocryphal altar
The holocaust of our desires turned to vices
To defects, to atavism
They want to see our past burn down
Nip the future hiding in the bud
I check, and I find I need to bear a whole damn lot
We are mystified
After the Roaring Twenties the hysteria was very well split, thanks
But who told me that ignorance and amnesia gave carte blanche to hypocrisy?
And so if Céline3 is antisemitic and we are French-speaking
Ipso facto, we're awarded the title of damned fascists
All this annoys me, especially since we're quick to forget that in Ontario
Beaches were once forbidden to Jews, dogs and niggers
In that order, textually
If I say so it's because I am a nigger myself, but I was whitewashed
While McGill fixed a quota in the wherry
Fabrics were made out of Jews' hair in Dachau
A material, just like the trees of the Daishowa company4
That's what the Shoah is, man, so watch out with your words
You give me no other choice, you
But to send the censorship for the scaffold5
Horror story, porous memory
We don't even dare name ourselves anymore, we deny ourselves
But I! But I!
Honor story, carrying memory
Oh you, K-K-Kanada6,
Throwing me shady reproachful stones
As soon as I get close to the roots of my strain
And stumbling on the cowardice of my hiding
Know that while the Axis flooded the world with H-Bombs
My father's father put his gun
To the service of the the Hexagon7
Proud as a peacock, Jean-Rock and his bunch of damned Canucks8
We could count on them to denazify Europe
I tell you: In Normandy, there were more Frenchmen
Than Quebecois on Franco's side9
Yet we still weren't totally pure
Hidden beneath the charlatan cassocks
Blinded by the dean's hidden face
Over here we weren't so quick
To see Auschwitz's smoke
Mea maxima culpa to all the brothers wearing a kippa
As for you, K-K-Kanada
Francophone slayer
Metis killer
Amerindian assassin
When will you apologize to the Commission des droits de la personne?10
No one likes to be called a fascist
So next time you feel like saying it, hold back your horses
Watch out with your words otherwise, presto
I send you the censorship for the scaffold
Horror story, porous memory
We don't even dare name ourselves anymore, we deny ourselves
But I! But I!
Honor story, carrying memory
What pisses me off is that we go fishing, we rise to the bait
We hold ourselves back by sinning from a contrition excess
We flagellate ourselves, bleach wash
An original stain that's pretty much make-believe
We look through our feces, we're looking for the Mad-cow disease
We put our fingers in our eyes up to the elbow, up to the armpit
What a bunch of imbeciles!
We can't see the barbed wire running around our servile brains
While we tell Normand Lester11 to shut up
We use the deleterious thesis of Esther Delisle12
And the ravings of Mordecai Richler13
To save us from totalitarian drifts
We don't even dare name ourselves anymore
We deny ourselves
Fear cuts our balls off and blurs communication
The first to make a move risks excommunication
It's the pinnacle of colonialism
When the Parti Quebecois14 leader, afraid to be seen as a fascist
Falls into denouncement
Becomes a snitch wanting to look nice
When a Prime Minister completely changes his politics
Once upon a time, the Michaud case15
Of course I'm hurt, yes, but it doesn't matter much
When I send the censorship for the scaffold
Horror story, porous memory
We don't even dare name ourselves anymore, we deny ourselves
But I! But I!
Honor story, carrying memory
Submitted by crimson_antics on Tue, 04/09/2012 - 01:03
Last edited by crimson_antics on Mon, 27/10/2014 - 12:55

La censure pour l'échafaud

kuroi_neko    Tue, 04/09/2012 - 02:30

Le mystère du titre, peut-être ?
Sinon je n'ai rien vu de choquant.

crimson_antics    Tue, 04/09/2012 - 02:32

Oui, c'est possible...'Censorship for the Gallows', alors? Je crois que je vais l'ajouter dans la note en bas de page.
Les chansons de Loco Locass sont épuisantes à traduire, avec toutes les références et les mots que je n'utilise jamais :bigsmile:

kuroi_neko    Tue, 04/09/2012 - 02:37

Oui, plutôt dans la note. C'est un film noir plutôt pas mal, mais sans rapport direct avec le thème de la chanson à mon avis.