La critique [English translation]

They're there, chill, not a single worry

When we panic and from stage fright

All our limbs quiver in front of the audience

With a somber air, they scrutinize from the shadows

Armed of a pen, anything we say or do

Any chink in our armor

From left to right, those who get mandate

To write up a note didn't, I assume

Dip their quill in a holy water stoup.

And what can we do, poor earthen pot 1

Vulnerable and alone, when we die of it

Put our dreams away and shut up?

Critics, critics, we can always say

That we don't give a damn, critics, critics

Wreck up your mood and shoot you up

Feeling like death, reading these words

That except for extenuating circumstances, look, oh, surprise

Like a wrecking company

If a few panic and get neurasthenia

Go to see therapists, others free themselves

Move heaven and earth, being thank God

The obstinate kind, they're ready to fight

And to be better, look for a new style

Change their profile, implant new hair.

It doesn't change much, there is still a war

Of newspaper articles made of words that hit

Just where it strikes, just where it hurts

Critics, critics, we can always say

That we don't give a damn, critics, critics

Wreck up your mood and shoot you up

Out of the purgatory of the hardest years

Of starving, of stinking galas

Of back-room nights when we see at last

Our name slotting itself as the show-stopper

It's so heart-warming, then there's the opening night

Where we have to face them down, and control our fear

When the night is done, the die is cast

Already in the hall, the hush fell

Worrying and thick, honey or vitriol.

Whether it's a consecration or a slaughter

I'll have to weather it, thinks hidden backstage

The tortured artist, drenched in their sweat

Critics, critics, we can always say

That we don't give a damn, critics, critics

Wreck up your mood and shoot you up

But tell yourself that since you took your risks

You chose your camp, you have to admit

That their's is to be, even if they're wrong

The one that informs, even if they deform

Your thoughts, to each their ways

and their skills, to each their job.

Articles pass, others take their places

In the daily papers, that's the way of life

No one cares about it, no one remebers it

When up on the scene the artist plays and outdo himself

Nothing's important, farewell critics

Salute the publics and bravo for the talent.

Critics, critics, whether they acclaim you

Or kill you in three words, critics, critics

Give their own opinion it's not necessarily concrete.

In the endgame, only the public is right.

1. "le pot de terre contre le pot de fer" or "earthen pot vs iron pot" is a metaphor for the man against the bureaucratic established machine

• Artist:Charles Aznavour