Fatigué (Répétitions Bercy 2007) - Renaud

Jamais une statue ne sera assez grande

pour dpasser la cime du moindre peuplier

et les arbres ont le coeur infiniment plus tendre

que celui des hommes qui les ont plants

Pour toucher la sagesse qui ne viendra jamais

j’changerais la sve du premier olivier

contre mon sang impur d’tre civilis

responsable anonyme de tout le sang vers

Fatigu, fatigu

fatigu du mensonge et de la vrit

que je croyais si belle, que je voulais aimer

et qui est si cruelle que je m’y suis brl

Fatigu, fatigu

Fatigu d’habiter sur la plante terre

sur ce grain de poussire, sur ce caillou minable

sur cette fausse toile perdue dans l’univers

berceau de la btise et royaume du mal

o la plus volue parmi les cratures

a invent la haine, le racisme et la guerre

et le pouvoir maudit qui corrompt les plus purs

et amne le sage cracher sur son frre

Fatigu, fatigu

fatigu de parler, fatigu de me taire

quand on blesse un enfant, quand on viole sa mre

quand la moiti du monde en assassine un tiers

Fatigu, fatigu

Fatigu de ces hommes qui ont tu les indiens,

massacr les baleines et billonn la vie,

extermin les loups, mis des colliers aux chiens

qui ont mme russi pourrir la pluie

La liste est bien trop longue de tout ce qui m’coeure

depuis l’horreur banale du moindre fait divers

il n’y a plus assez de place dans mon coeur

pour loger la rvolte, le dgot, la colre

Fatigu, fatigu

fatigu d’esprer et fatigu de croire

ces ides brandies comme des tendards

et pour lesquelles tant d’hommes ont connu l’abattoir

Fatigu, fatigu

Je voudrais tre un arbre, boire l’eau des orages

me nourrir de la terre, tre ami des oiseaux,

et puis avoir la tte si haut dans les nuages

qu’aucun homme ne puisse y planter un drapeau

Je voudrais tre un arbre et plonger mes racines

au coeur de cette terre que j’aime tellement

et que ce putain d’homme chaque jour assassine

je voudrais le silence enfin, et puis le vent…

Fatigu, fatigu

Fatigu de har et fatigu d’aimer

surtout ne plus rien dire, ne plus jamais crier

fatigu des discours, des paroles sacres

Fatigu, fatigu

Fatigu, fatigu fatigu de sourire, fatigu de pleurer

fatigu de chercher quelques traces d’amour

dans l’ocan de boue o sombre la pense

Fatigu, fatigu

A statue will never be big enough

to rise above the top of the smallest poplar

and the trees are infinitely tender-hearted

than that of the men who planted them

To touch the wisdom that will never come

I would change the sap of the first olive tree

against my impure blood to be civilized

anonymous responsible for all blood to

Tired, tired

tired of lies and truth

that I thought was so beautiful, that I wanted to love

and which is so cruel that I burned myself in it

Tired, tired

Tired of dwelling on the plant earth

on this speck of dust, on this shabby pebble

on this fake canvas lost in the universe

cradle of stupidity and kingdom of evil

o most evolved among creatures

invented hatred, racism and war

and the cursed power that corrupts the purest

and bring the wise man to spit on his brother

Tired, tired

tired of speaking, tired of being silent

when you hurt a child, when you rape his mother

when half the world murders a third

Tired, tired

Tired of these men who killed the Indians,

slaughtered whales and blotted life,

exterminate the wolves, put collars on the dogs

who even managed to rot in the rain

The list is far too long of everything that interests me

from the banal horror of the smallest news item

there's not enough room in my heart

to house revolt, disgust, anger

Tired, tired

tired of hoping and tired of believing

these ideas held up like banners

and for which so many men have known the slaughterhouse

Tired, tired

I would like to be a tree, drink storm water

feed me from the earth, be a friend of the birds,

and then have your head so high in the clouds

that no man can plant a flag there

I would like to be a tree and sink my roots

in the heart of this land that I love so much

and that this fucking man murders every day

I would like silence at last, and then the wind...

Tired, tired

Tired of har and tired of loving

above all don't say anything anymore, never shout again

tired of speeches, sacred words

Tired, tired

Tired, tired, tired of smiling, tired of crying

tired of looking for some traces of love

in the ocean of mud where thought darkens

Tired, tired