Happy the one who, like Ulysses, made a fine trip
_____
Or like that one who conquered the fleece
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And then came back, full of experience and sense
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To live among his parents for the rest of his days
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When will I see again, alas, from my little village
_____
Smoke from the chimney, and in what season?
_____
Season, will I see the yard again?
_____
But when will I see again, from my little village
_____
Smoke from the chimney, and in what season?
But when will I see again
_____
But when will I see again, from my little village
_____
Smoke from the chimney, and in what season?
But when will I see again
_____
Will I see again the yard of my poor house
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That’s a whole province to me and so much more?
_____
I prefer the home my ancestors built
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To the daring facades of Roman palaces
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The fine slate pleases me more than hard marble
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My Gaulish Loir more than the Latin Tiber
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My little Liré more than the Palatine Hill
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And the Angevin softness more than sea air
_____
But when will I see again, from my little village
_____
Smoke from the chimney, and in what season?
But when will I see again
_____
But when will I see again, from my little village
_____
Smoke from the chimney, and in what season?
But when will I see again
_____
I crossed the seas with the strength of my arms
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Alone against the gods, lost in the tides
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Holed up in a hold, my old eardrums pierced
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So I’d never hear the sirens and their voices again
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Our lives are a war where it’s all up to us
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To care about our fates, to pick the right choice
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To beware of our steps and all that still water
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That pollutes our paths supposedly paved with gold
_____
But when will I see again, from my little village
_____
Smoke from the chimney, and in what season?
But when will I see again
_____
But when will I see again, from my little village
_____
Smoke from the chimney, and in what season?
But when will I see again
But when will I see again
But when will I see again
But when will I see again