The people of my country
They are people of words
And people of chatter
Who speak to hear themselves
And speak to speak
They must be listened to
Sometimes it's truth
And sometimes it's a lie
But most of the time
It's happiness that says
How much time it would take
To grasp happiness
Through misery
Intertwined with pleasure
So much to dream out loud
As to talk about it at ease

Speaking of my country
I hear you speak
And I have dance in my feet
And music in my ears
And from far to far
In this snowy desert
Where you persist
In throwing villages
I will repeat to you
Your talks and your sayings
Your words and speeches
Until I lose my name
O voices so listened to
So that there remains
Of myself but a little
Of your echoing sound

I hear you chatter
On the doorsteps
And on each side
Of the fences' cleats
I hear you sing
In my half-season
Your too short summer
And my winter so long
I hear you dream
On soft weather evenings
It's about winds
Of sale and rigging
Of ploughing to finish
Of hopes and harvest
Of love and the neighbor
Who wants to marry his daughter

Black voices and hardened voices
Of bark and rope
Voices of plain-chant countries
And voices of lovers
Sweet softened voices
Of village loves
Voices of beautiful old tunes
That one gets bored of in the city
School squabbles
And palaver and sparages
General store
And corner restaurant
The bridges, the docks, the stations
All your maritime cries
Reach my window
And tear my ear

Is it you that I call
Or you who call me
Language of my father
And seventeenth-century dialect
You make me travel
Pain and melancholy
You give me pleasure
And wisdom and folly
There is no corner of the earth
Where I do not hear you
There is no corner of my life
Sheltered from your noises
There is no song of mine
That is not entirely made
With your words, your steps
With your music

I hear you dream
Soft as a river
I hear you crack
Like a sail in the open sea
I hear you rumble
Like a waterfall in the mountains
I hear you roll
Like a barrel of powder
I hear you rise
Like a four o'clock grain
I hear you knock
Like the sea on a cliff
I hear you pass
Like ice breaking up
I hear you tomorrow
Talking about freedom

CONSULTER LES PAROLES ORIGINALES