Gitans [English translation]

When you left gypsy

You only left

A car in pieces

You took your bamboo chairs

Your worthless guitar

You put the wind beneath your wings

You stroked the birds, you stroked the birds

You put stones on the fire

The long-haired women

Washed everything in buckets

Dried the laundry on the bushes

Put the kids back in the trucks

On the reed baskets

And stroked the birds, stroked the birds

Where were you going?

Apart from the puddles of mud

And a few wheel marks

You wanted to leave nothing behind

You put your pride gypsy

In the caravan curtains

Like folded flags

You stroked the birds, you stroked the birds

Where were you going?

I’m afraid of the town lights

Of the big unmoving houses

Of the gardens built all around

I’m afraid the children of our love

Will be taken from us ‘ex-officio’ 1

At rifle point by milicias

They call our daughters thieves

From within their fearful homes

Packed with attack dogs

They secure their poultry

They watch over their scrap

We’re nothing alike…

Now there’s a sign

Parking prohibited

As if there had been a plague

You’ve no choice but to look elsewhere

For people who’ll be less afraid

Hoping that some of them remain

And stroking the birds! And stroking the birds!

1. by virtue of position - by 'officialdom'

• Artist:Francis Cabrel
• Album:Photos de voyages