Projet Brassens >lyrics and translations >Le bistrot |
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Le bistrot | The bistrot |
Dans un coin pourri Du pauvre Paris, Sur un' place, L'est un vieux bistrot Tenu par un gros Dégueulasse. |
In a grotty spot In a rotten square Of poorest Paris There's an old bistrot Kept by a disgusting Fat slob. |
Si t'as le bec fin, S'il te faut du vin D' premièr' classe, Va boire à Passy, Le nectar d'ici Te dépasse. |
If you've a fine palate And you drink wine Of the very best, Go and fill your glass at Passy The nectar from this place Will be more than you can handle. |
Mais si t'as 1' gosier Qu'une armur' d'acier Matelasse, Goûte à ce velours, Ce petit bleu lourd De menaces. |
But if your throat Has a lining Like a steel mattress Just take a swig of this velvet, This little tot And all it threatens. |
Tu trouveras là La fin' fleur de la Populace, Tous les marmiteux, Les calamiteux De la place. |
Here you'll find The fairest flower of the folk. All the disasters, All the hard cases Of the district. |
Qui viennent en rang, Comme des harengs, Voir en face La bell' du bistrot, La femme à ce gros Dégueulasse. |
They all come and line up Like a row of herrings, To take a squint at The belle of the bistrot, The wife of the disgusting Fat slob. |
Que je boive à fond L'eau de tout's les fontain's Wallace, Si, dès aujourd'hui, Tu n'es pas séduit Par la grâce |
I swear I'll drink Every drop In the Wallace fountains, If right here and now You are not knocked out By the grace |
De cett' joli' fé' Qui, d'un bouge, a fait Un palace. Avec ses appas, Du haut jusqu'en bas, Bien en place. |
Of this pretty nymph Who has made a pit Into a palace. She has all her charms, From top to bottom, Right where it counts. |
Ces trésors exquis, Qui les embrass', qui Les enlace? Vraiment, c'en est trop! Tout ça pour ce gros Dégueulasse! |
And these treasures sweet, Who embraces them? Who squeezes their charms? I just can't bear the thought, It's all for that disgusting Fat slob. |
C'est injuste et fou, Mais que voulez-vous Qu'on y fasse? L'amour se fait vieux, Il a plus les yeux Bien en face. |
It's not fair, it's mad, But what can you do? Just grin and bear it. Love must be getting old, He's just not seeing straight Any more. |
Si tu fais ta cour, Tâch' que tes discours Ne l'agacent. Sois poli, mon gars, Pas de geste ou gare à la casse! |
If you make a pass Just take care your chat Doesn't vex her. Just you watch your step, Don't step out of line Or you're for the high jump. |
Car sa main qui claqu', Punit d'un flic-flac Les audaces. Certes, il n'est pas né Qui mettra le nez Dans sa tasse. |
Because her hand With a hefty slap Will give you what for. There's not a man born Who'll have a chance to sniff In her cup. |
Pas né, le chanceux Qui dégel'ra ce Bloc de glace, Qui fera dans 1' dos Les corne' à ce gros Dégueulasse. |
The chancer isn't born Who'll manage to unfreeze This block of ice. And who'll put horns On the head Of the flat slob. |
Dans un coin pourri Du pauvre Paris, Sur un' place, Une espèc' de fé', D'un vieux bouge, a fait Un palace. |
In a grotty spot In a rotten square Of poorest Paris, A fairy of a kind Has made this dump Into a palace. |
© 1960 Ed. Mus. 57 Texte et musique G. Brassens |
© 2000 Dr. Ted Neather This translation aims to convey meaning and not attempt poetry or song. |
NOTES
Its the worst restaurant in town; undrinkeable wine, ghastly food, in a run-down area and with a slob of a landlord but the place is always full.
Why?
Because the landlady is very beautiful.