Untuk salam pembukaan, … atau semacamnya

Lagu ini aslinya dibawakan oleh Jacques Brel, dicover oleh Bertrand Cantat (Noir Desir) dan Yann Tiersen.

Judulnya Ces Gens-La (Those People)  , terjemahan puisinya dalam bahasa inggris kira-kira sebagai berikut

First, first, there’s the eldest
He, who’s as big as a melon
He, who has a big nose
He, who doesn’t know his name anymore
Mister, since he drinks so much
He drank so much
That he can’t two anything with his ten fingers
But he, who can’t take it anymore
He, who’s completely drunk
And who thinks he’s the king
Who gets drunk every night
On bad wine
But who we find, in the morning,
Sleeping in the church
As stiff as a gargoyle
As white as an Easter candle
And who’s babbling
And whose eyes are rambling
I must say, Mister
That those people
Don’t think, Mister
They don’t think, they pray

And then, there’s the other one
With carrots in his hair
Who doesn’t know what a comb is
Who’s as mean as a tinea
So mean, he’d even give the shirt off his back
To poor happy people
Who married this Denise
A girl from the town
I mean, from another town
And, that’s not all
Who goes about his things
With his little hat
With his little coat
With his little car
Who’d like to like one,
But who doesn’t look like one at all
You can’t pretend to be rich
When you’re penniless
I must say, Mister
That those people
Don’t live, Mister
They don’t live, they cheat

And then, there are the other ones
The mother who doesn’t say anything
Or says complete nonsense
From dusk until dawn
From under her nice apostle face
And in her wooden frame
There’s the moustache of the father
Who died by slipping on the floor
And who’s watching his herd
Eating cold soup
And they make big ‘flchss’
And they make big ‘flchss’
And then there’s the very old one
Who won’t stop vibrating
And everyone’s waiting for her to die
‘Cause she’s the one who’s got the money
And no one ever listens
What her poor hands are saying
I must say, Mister
They those people
Don’t talk, Mister
They don’t talk, they count

And then, and then
And then there’s this Frida
Who’s as beautiful as a sun
And who loves me as much
As I love Frida
We even tell each other quite often
That we’ll own a house
With plenty of windows
With almost no walls
And that we’ll live inside
And that it’ll feel good to be there
And that even though it’s not sure,
It’s still a ‘maybe’
Because the others don’t want to
Because the others don’t want to
The others say, just like that
That she’s too beautiful for me
That I’m barely good enough
To slit a cat’s throat
I never killed any cat
Or at least, not recently
Or it’s possible I’ve forgotten
Or maybe they didn’t smell good
Well, they don’t want to
Sometimes, when we see each other
Pretending that it’s just a coincidence
With her wet eyes
She says that she’ll leave
She says that she’ll follow me
And so for a moment
Only for a moment
Well, I believe her, Mister
For a moment
Only for a moment
Because those people
Mister, they don’t leave
They don’t leave, Mister
They don’t leave
But it’s getting late, Mister
I must get back home


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