Abjurer is a rare, powerful verb meaning to formally renounce or reject something, often with a solemn or religious tone. In the song’s closing question, « À l’homme pour l’homme abjurer ? », it evokes the unsettling idea of how long it takes a person to renounce their own humanity or their connection to others.
Feu! Chatterton’s “L’étranger” follows a person crossing a border into a place where he does not belong. The song begins with a blunt thought: “Rien n'est précaire comme vivre” [Nothing is as uncertain as living]. Life is described as melting for frost and becoming light enough for the wind to carry away. After the border crossing, the questions come quickly: “D’où viens-tu ? Mais où vas-tu donc ?” [Where do you come from? But where are you going?] The answer refuses to settle the past or the future: “Demain, qu’importe / Et qu’importe hier” [Tomorrow does not matter / And yesterday does not matter]. The repeated “J’arrive… où je suis étranger” [I’m arriving… where I am a stranger] sounds like both a declaration and a warning: he is moving forward, but he has no clear home waiting for him.
The second half turns inward. Being human is called a long, difficult process, especially when it means giving everything up: “C’est long de renoncer à tout” [It takes a long time to renounce everything]. The song asks whether we can feel the changes happening inside us, as our knees slowly bend and age rises like cold water. That image is severe, almost uncomfortable, and the line “C’est comme une honte qui croit” [It is like a shame that grows] makes growing older feel less like a gentle journey than a pressure that keeps rising. At the end, the sea becomes a vast question: “Ah mer amère, ah mer profonde” [Ah bitter sea, ah deep sea]. How many years and seconds does it take for a person to “pour l’homme abjurer” [renounce humanity, or turn away from being human]? The lyrics never give an answer. They leave us with the stranger still arriving, changed by time and unsure of where he belongs.