Les Anarchistes


Y'en a pas un sur cent et pourtant ils existent
La plupart Espagnols allez savoir pourquoi
Faut croire qu'en Espagne on ne les comprend pas
Les anarchistes
Ils ont tout ramassé
Des beignes et des pavés
Ils ont gueulé si fort
Qu'ils peuv'nt gueuler encor
Ils ont le coeur devant
Et leurs rêves au mitan
Et puis l'âme toute rongée
Par des foutues idées
Y'en a pas un sur cent et pourtant ils existent
La plupart fils de rien ou bien fils de si peu
Qu'on ne les voit jamais que lorsqu'on a peur d'eux
Les anarchistes
Ils sont morts cent dix fois
Pour que dalle et pourquoi ?
Avec l'amour au poing
Sur la table ou sur rien
Avec l'air entêté
Qui fait le sang versé
Ils ont frappé si fort
Qu'ils peuv'nt frapper encor
Y'en a pas un sur cent et pourtant ils existent
Et s'il faut commencer par les coups d' pied au cul
Faudrait pas oublier qu' ça descend dans la rue
Les anarchistes
Ils ont un drapeau noir
En berne sur l'Espoir
Et la mélancolie
Pour traîner dans la vie
Des couteaux pour trancher
Le pain de l'Amitié
Et des armes rouillées
Pour ne pas oublier
Qu'y'en a pas un sur cent et qu' pourtant ils existent
Et qu'ils se tiennent bien bras dessus bras dessous
Joyeux et c'est pour ça qu'ils sont toujours debout
Les anarchistes

1966 paroles et musique Léo Ferré

The following is "what you might call a rough translation" done by Caleb Smith
Some are not one in a hundred and nevertheless they exist.
Most Spaniards will know why
It is neccesary to believe that in Spain they don't understand them.
(The) Anarchists
They gathered all
Of the (smacks? / clouts?)and of paving stones (bricks)
They bellowed so strongly
That they could not bellow anymore.
They have the heart in front
And their dreams in the middle
And then their soul all eaten away at
By their bloody ideas
They aren't one in a hundred and nevertheless they exist
(The majority of sons of nothing or good sons of so little)?
People only see them when they fear them.
(The)Anarchists
They died 110 times.
For what purpose and why?
With the love of the fist
On the table or on anything
With an acking air
That makes the blood flow
They hit so hard
That they could not hit anymore
They aren't one in a hundred and nertheless they exist
And if it must start by a kick in they ass
It must not be forgotten that it came down in the street.
(The) Anarchists
They have a black flag
At half mast on the promise
and the meloncoly
for dragging in life
The knives for slicing
The bread of friendship
And the weapons rust
For to not forget
That they are not one in a hundred and that nevertheless they exist
And that they hold well hand in hand
39 Happy and it is for that, thay they always stand
(The) Anarchists
There is not one in one hundred, and yet they exist. The majority of the Spanish, you know why. But, in Spain, they are not understood. The anarchists. They have all gathered some clout and some stones. They have their heart in front of them and their dreams in the middle. Also, their souls have been sapped by their damned ideas.

 

There is not one in one hundred, and yet they exist. The majority of them are sons of noting or sons of so little that they are only noticed when they are feared. The anarchists. They are dead ten hundred times for that stone and why? With fists of love-on the table or on nothing. With relentlessness

they make the blood pour. They stuck so hard, they could not strike again.

 

There is not one in one hundred, and yet they exist. And if we must begin by a kick in the ass, one must not forget that it descends into the streets.

The anarchists. They have a black flag at half-mast on melancholy hope that they drag through life, some knives to cut the bread of friendship, and some rusted weapons so they do not forget.

 

There is not one in one in one hundred, and yet they exist. They stand arm in arm in joy. And for this, they are always standing. The Anarchists.

 

 

Translation by Patty Malesh


Source of French lyrics John Patten <john@Eiliepat.demon.co.uk>


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