L'autre Finistère [English translation]

Would you understand it, my sweet,

if someday, worn out,

I went and smashed my voice

for the last time

at 120 decibels

against a tall chestnut tree

of love for you?

Would you deem it cruel

if I'd put a finger on my lips

and bring you, away from the cities,

to a fort, a peninsula

to forget about our duels,

our skirmishes

and our stupid fears?

We would get there to wait

for the end of the fights,

throwing to worms and vultures

all our best speeches,

these words we were craving for

and are nowhere to be found.

We would turn deaf there.

(chorus)

There is an estuary

for our rivers of sighs

where water blends our mysteries

and our beautiful mismatches together.

There I would learn to keep still

and prevent your tears from flowing,

in this other Finistère1

with its wide silent beaches2

Of course we reckon

the world is unfair

and days wear us down

like denim cloth.

We figure walls stand between us

without a single crack

and even the air oppresses us.

And still we imagine

so many things, like

being bound by nothing

but the clay of our cheap oaths,

ignoring the roses and fertile gardens

that lay hidden beneath

the burnish of time.

(chorus)

For if one day I soar

up there in the sky,

the best part of our story

I would like to carry with me

is the sugar and honey

and the few things we know

belong only to us

(chorus)

1. a region of French Britanny, on a peninsula south of the English Channel2. "plage de silence" can also mean "a blank sound interval"

• Artist:Les innocents