La folle complainte

The days of ironing
In the house that sleeps
The maid's not so wise
But we keep her around
We found her last night
Behind the wooden door
With a colander
Giving herself some joy

Grandpa's beard
Has put everything in order
But the maid in anger
Almost bit him
It's raining on the slates
It's raining on the yard
It's raining on the raspberries
It's raining on my love

I hide under the table
The cat scratches me a bit
This tiger's untamed
And plays with fire
Grandma's slippers
Died before the night
Let's sleep in my cottage
Sleep, let's sleep quietly

Cradle rocking with viols
An angel's hidden
In the cupboard with vials
Where they keep me laid down
Remedy for the cold
Remedy for the heart
Remedy for the fog
Remedy for the misfortune

The revenge of the storms
Has turned the house
Into a tender landscape
For little boys
Who burn with impatience
Two days before Christmas
And, without any suspicion
Accept everything, haphazardly

Life, death, the parks
And the electric trains
Tears at the stations
Punch and the whips
The acetylene torches
For the needy kids
And Helen's smile
On a beautiful summer evening

Give me four planks
To make myself a coffin
He fell from the branch
The sweet little squirrel
I never loved my mother
I never loved my fate
I never loved the war
I never loved death

I never knew how to say
Why I was distracted
I couldn't smile
At this or that attraction
I was alone on the roads
Without saying yes or no
My soul dissolved
Dust was my name