Carte postale [English translation]

The television sets are switched on

The doors of conversation bolted shut

The games of draughts and cards forgotten

The farms sleep once the young folk leave

The lights of the street parties are broken

The mulled wine, the dishes gone cold

The once friendly waitresses are now short-tempered

The dogs playing under the table gone

The wedding napkins are torn up

The kids bedtime stories forgotten

The swaying of the last dancer’s petticoat has stopped

Along with the tuneless notes of the accordion

It’s a hamlet lost under the stars

With old curtains hanging at dirty windows

And on the old sideboard under the grey dust

Just a postcard remains

The stones of the peaceful lanes are Tarmacked over

The grass of the fragile places torn up

The stalls of the beautiful market girls deserted

The fountains’ jets of water dried up

The sacred words of the grandfathers are forgotten

And heard no more at the great stone chimney hearths

The laughter of the harvest nights has flown away

And the television sets are switched on

It’s a hamlet lost under the stars

With old curtains hanging at dirty windows

And on the old sideboard under the grey dust

Just a postcard remains

The dresses full of beautiful promise have flown away

The crickets’ wings, the baskets of cherries too

The laughter of the harvest nights forgotten

And the television sets are switched on

• Artist:Francis Cabrel
• Album:Carte postale