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Les moutons

Jacques Brel
Language: French


Jacques Brel

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Mon enfance
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‎[1967]‎
Parole di Jacques Brel
Musica di Gérard Jouannest
In “Jacques Brel 67”‎

‎“Gregge umano” sullo Zócalo di Città del Messico, ‎‎opera “naked mass”di Spencer Tunick
‎“Gregge umano” sullo Zócalo di Città del Messico, ‎‎opera “naked mass”di Spencer Tunick
Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les moutons
Qu'ils soient pure laine
Ou en chapeau melon,
Qu'ils broutent leur colline,
Qu'ils broutent le béton,
Menés par quelques chiens
Et par quelques bâtons
Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les moutons

Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les agneaux
Qui arrondissent le dos
De troupeau en troupeau,
De troupeau en étable
Et d'étable en bureau
J'aime encore mieux les loups,
J'aime mieux les moineaux
Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les agneaux

Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les brebis
Ça arrive toutes tordues
Et ça dit déjà "oui"
Ça se retrouve tondues
Et ça vous redit "oui"
Ça se balance en boucherie
Et ça re redit "oui".
Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les brebis

Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les troupeaux
Qui ne voient pas plus loin
Que le bout de leur coteau
Qui avancent en reculant
Qui se noient dans un verre d'eau bénite
Et dès que le vent se lève,
Montrent le bas de leur dos
Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les troupeaux

Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les bergers
Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les bergers
Il pleut, il pleut bergère,
Prends garde à te garder,
Prends garde à te garder, bergère,
Un jour tu vas bêler
Désolé, bergère,
J'aime pas les bergers

Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les moutons
Qu'ils soient pure laine
Ou en chapeau melon,
Qu'ils broutent leur colline,
Qu'ils broutent le béton,
Menés par quelques chiens
Et par quelques bâtons,
Désolé bergère,
J'aime pas les moutons
Bêêêêêh...

Contributed by Bartleby - 2011/9/23 - 08:33




Language: English

Traduzione inglese di Tonio da lyricstranslate.com
THE SHEEP

Sorry shepherdess
I don't like sheep
Wether they're pure wool
Or bowler hat
Wether they graze their hill
Wether they graze concrete
Led by a few dogs
And by a few sticks
Sorry shepherdess
I don't like sheep

Sorry shepherdess
I don't like lambs
Who round their back
From herd to herd
From herd to barn
And from barn to office
I even like wolves better
I like sparrows better
Sorry shepherdess
I don't like lambs

Sorry shepherdess
I don't like ewes
They come all twisted
And they already say "yes"
They get all shaven
And they say "yes" again
They swing at the butcher shop
And they say "yes" again
Sorry shepherdess
I don't like ewes

Sorry shepherdess
I don't like herds
Who can't see any further
Than the top of their hill
Who move forward moving backwards
Who get drowned in a glass of holy water
And as soon as the wind blows
Show off the bottom of their back
Sorry shepherdess
I don't like herds

Sorry shepherdess
I don't like shepherds
Sorry shepherdess
I don't like shepherds
It's raining, raining shepherdess
Beware to look after you
Beware to look after you, shepherdess
One day you're gonna bleat
Sorry shepherdess
I don't like shepherds

Sorry shepherdess
I don't like sheep
Wether they're pure wool
Or bowler hat
Wether they graze their hill
Wether they graze concrete
Led by a few dogs
And by a few sticks
Sorry shepherdess
I don't like sheep
Bêêêêêh...

Contributed by Bartleby - 2011/9/23 - 11:00




Language: Portuguese

Traduzione portoghese dal blog O Canto do Brel
AS OVELHAS

Lamento pastora, ‎
mas não gosto nada dos carneiros, ‎
sejam eles pura lã ‎
ou tenham eles chapéu de coco... ‎
Pastem eles nas colinas ‎
ou pastem no betão, ‎
guiados por alguns cães ‎
e por alguns cajados. ‎
Lamento pastora, ‎
mas não gosto nada dos carneiros...‎

E não gosto nada dos cordeiros ‎
que curvam as costas ‎
de rebanho em rebanho, ‎
de rebanho em estábulo, ‎
de estábulo em escritório... ‎
Eu gosto mais dos lobos ‎
e dos passarões... ‎
Lamento pastora, ‎
mas não gosto nada dos cordeiros...‎

E não gosto nada das ovelhas. ‎
Andam sempre engelhadas ‎
a dizer que sim. ‎
Levam carecadas ‎
e voltam a dizer que sim... ‎
E o balanço final é o talho, ‎
e mesmo assim repisam no SIM! ‎
Lamento pastora, ‎
mas não gosto nada das ovelhas...‎

E não gosto nada de rebanhos... ‎
Não vêem mais longe ‎
que a extrema do seu pasto... ‎
Avançam recuando
‎ e afogam-se dentro de um copo de água benta. ‎
E logo que o vento se levanta ‎
deixam à mostra o fundo das costas... ‎
Lamento pastora, ‎
mas não gosto nada de rebanhos...‎

Lamento pastora, ‎
mas não gosto nada de pastores, ‎
eles choram, choram, ‎
choram, pastora... ‎
Toma cuidado e defende-te, pastora... ‎
Um dia tu vais balir. ‎
Lamento pastora....‎

Contributed by Bartleby - 2011/9/28 - 09:06




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