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Mourir pour des idées

Georges Brassens
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Versione inglese / English Version
TO DIE FOR YOUR IDEASDIE FOR IDEAS
  
To die for your ideas, an excellent ideaDie for ideas, that's a great idea.
One time I almost died for lack of having itMe, I nearly died because I didn't have any.
When all the teeming hordes who had it before meBecause those who had the ideals, an overwhelming crowd,
Ran screaming to my door in a murderous fitFell on me yelling "Slaughter".
My muse eventually caved in to their requestThey were able to convince me, and my cheeky Muse
Lamenting her mistakes, she rallied for their causeAdmitted she was wrong, and rallied to their cause.
With just a whisper of regret giving her pauseJust maintaining a tiny suspicion of doubt.
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow deathDie for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death,
OK, make it a slow, slow deathOK, a slow death.
  
Seeing as we are free to linger in this lifeJudging that there's no danger in staying at home,
Let’s take our own sweet time reaching the afterglowLet's meander on the road to the other world.
For, if we hurry up, we might actually dieBecause if you force the pace, you end up dying
For an idea that’s out of fashion tomorrowFor ideals which are out of date tomorrow.
Yet, if there’s one thing sure to make you feel depressedNow if there's one thing that's really bitter and upsetting
It is to realize upon your dying dayWhen you offer up your soul to God, its realising
That you took the wrong path, that you made a mistakeThat you took the wrong turning, got hold of the wrong idea.
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow deathDie for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death,
OK, make it a slow, slow deathOK, a slow death.
  
The fundamentalists who cry the martyr’s cryThe Saint Johns with mouths of gold who preach martyrdom
Are usually the ones who linger on this earthUsually manage to hang around on earth.
To die for their ideals, for whatever it’s worthDying for ideas, let's be clear about it,
Is their main obsession, it motivates their lifeThat's their reason for living, so they're not going to lose it.
In almost every camp, every holy domainIn all the different camps you can see people who take the place
These are the ones who will outlive MethuselemOf Mathusalah when it comes to longevity.
Which leads me to conclude their favorite refrain’sI conclude from this that they must say to themselves, aside,
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death"Die for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death,
OK, make it a slow, slow deathOK, a slow death."
  
Ideas which demand the famous sacrificeFor ideas demanding the ultimate sacrifice,
Are endlessly revived by sects of every stripeSects of every shade offer the sequel,
And every new victim wonders before he diesAnd the question arises in the minds of novice victims:
To die for an idea is lovely, but which type?"Die for ideas, that's fine, but which ones?"
And since they’re all about the same in most respectsAnd as they all resemble each other,
The wise man, when he sees their mighty banners waveWhen he sees them approaching under their big banners,
Will always hesitate, as he sidesteps the graveThe wise man hesitates, turns around the tomb.
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow deathDie for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death,
OK, make it a slow, slow deathOK, a slow death.
  
If a few killing fields, a few communal gravesNow, if it just needed a few hecatombs
Were all it took to do the trick once and for allFor everything to change, everything fall into place,
With all the nights of terror, all the heads that fallAfter so many "great eves" when so many heads fall,
You’d think by now the whole world would be savedWe would already have reached Paradise on earth.
Alas, the golden age is constantly delayedBut the golden age is constantly put off to the Kalends,
The gods are thirsty yet, they’re never satisfiedThe gods are always thirsty, have never had enough,
So death and death resumes, and still more people dieAnd its death, death again and again.
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow deathDie for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death,
OK, make it a slow, slow deathOK, a slow death.
  
Oh all you firebrands, all you fishers of menO all you firebreathers, o all you good apostles,
Please be the first to die, we’ll get out of your wayGo and die first, we stand back and let you through.
But, for the love of god, let the rest of us liveBut please, I beg you, let the rest of us get on with living,
Life is the last luxury left us anywayLife is just about our only luxury down here.
The reaper is a crafty type and needs no helpFor after all, Death is sufficiently vigilant,
No need to speed his work by sharpening his bladeHe doesn't need anyone to hold his scythe for him.
So stop your dance of death, you’re only giving aidLet's have no more macabre dances around the scaffold.
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow deathDie for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death,
OK, make it a slow, slow deathOK, a slow death.


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