Petit Pays Lyrics in English Gaël Faye

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Below, I translated the lyrics of the song Petit Pays by Gaël Faye from French to English.

Little country

Tiny country

You were shrouded but you didn't die

You were mourned yet you didn't vanish

Little country

Tiny country

A sheet of paper and a pen soothe my insomniac ravings

Far off in my exile, little country of the Great Lakes of Africa

Remembering my life back before the war

Toiling to recall my feelings with no repatriation

Little country, I'm sending you this postcard

My rose, my petal, my crystal, my homeland

It's been so long, bougainvillea gardens

Memories kept inside the dust of a folded book

Under the sun, the tin roofs sparkle

Farmers clear the land by setting twigs on fire

You see, my life had started out well

I'd like to start over from the beginning, but you know how it is

And here we are lost in the streets of Saint-Denis

Before we get senile we'll go live in Gisenyi

We'll make the ground shake like the rumblings of our volcanoes

So little country, when do we fly away far from war?

Little country

Tiny country

You were shrouded but you didn't die

You were mourned yet you didn't vanish

Little country

Tiny country

Tiny piece of Africa perched up high

I doubt my loves, you'll remain my certainty

Reputation wrapped in a shroud

Little country, for three months everyone left you alone

I admit, I pled guilty to hating you

When all the spotlights were turned toward Zaire

We had to rebuild my little country on bones

Mass graves and then our endless nightmares

Little country, making you smile will be my redemption

I'll give you my life, starting with this song

Writing healed me when I was spiraling

Just let me cry when that cursed month of April comes

You taught me forgiveness so I could start anew

Little country, in the shadows the devil keeps scheming

You want to live despite the nightmares that haunt you

I'm a seed of exile from the residue of a shooting star

Little country

Tiny country

You were shrouded but you didn't die

You were mourned yet you didn't vanish

Little country

Tiny country

One bitter night, between suicide and murder

I scribbled these few lines with the neutral tip of my felt pen

I'm past the age of pamphlets and raising hell

I know only love and the fear it'll go away

I've dreamed too long of silence and northern lights

By being too well-behaved, I hanged myself with my halo

I scribbled texts to explain my sorrows

Bujumbura, you're my firefly in my European wandering

I was born long ago, one August

And since then, in my head, it's doubt season every day

I'm grieving and searching for a haven of peace

When Africa turns into a corpse

Eras die the way loves do

Man, I don't sleep anymore, and I stand guard like a zamu

Let me live, word of a misanthrope

Name me just one dream that went all the way to its own end

Little country

Tiny country

You were shrouded but you didn't die

You were mourned yet you didn't vanish

Little country, when you cry, I cry

When you laugh, I laugh, when you die, I die

When you live, I live

Little country, I bleed from your wounds

Little country, I love you, that I'm sure of

You were shrouded but you didn't die

You were mourned yet you didn't vanish

Little country

Tiny country

Little country

Tiny country

You were shrouded but you didn't die

You were mourned yet you didn't vanish

Little country

Tiny country

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SONG MEANING

Petit Pays is Gaël Faye’s heartfelt postcard to Burundi - the “little country” where he was born before civil war forced him into exile. Rapping and singing in French and Kirundi, he watches the night sky of Paris while his mind flies back to the tin-roofed houses, bougainvillea gardens and smoking hills of the Great Lakes. Each verse mingles nostalgia with raw pain: childhood memories glow, then shudder under the shadow of mass graves, sleepless guilt and the dreaded month of April when violence peaked. Music and a simple pen become his medicine, soothing an insomniac soul that aches to rebuild the land he loves.

Yet the song is not only a lament. It is a vow of unbreakable connection. Faye tells his homeland, “When you cry, I cry; when you live, I live,” promising to make Burundi smile again through his art. Out of ruin he pulls hope, forgiveness and the courage to dream of returning to Gisenyi and shaking the ground like the region’s volcanoes. “Petit Pays” is both confession and love song, reminding us that identity can stretch across continents, but the heartbeat of home never fades.

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Gaël Faye Petit Pays Lyrics