Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Le fantôme , by - Maxime Le Forestier. Release date: 31.12.2004
Song language: French
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Le fantôme , by - Maxime Le Forestier. Le fantôme(original) |
| Assis sur son croissant de lune, |
| Pierrot attend |
| Que quelqu’un lui rende sa plume. |
| Depuis le temps, |
| Depuis le temps qu’on la lui vole |
| Pour envoyer des petits mots, |
| Pierrot va prendre la parole. |
| Écoutez bien Pierrot. |
| Assis sur son croissant de lune |
| En spectateur, |
| Depuis sa luisante tribune |
| De nos malheurs, |
| Pierrot a tant de choses à dire |
| Que si vous ne vous dépêchez |
| De lui donner de quoi écrire, |
| Pierrot va se mettre à crier: |
| «J'étais vivant, Messieurs, Mesdames, |
| J'étais vivant |
| Quand je jouais les mélodrames |
| De pantomimes en mimodrames. |
| J'étais vivant, |
| Et si je taisais souvent, |
| C’est que l’amour est bien plus beau |
| Avec des mains qu’avec des mots. |
| Eh, regardez ce qu’on a fait de moi: |
| Un habitant béat de vos pays lunaires |
| Et qui, à force de se taire, |
| S’en va rêver tout seul. |
| Pourtant j'étais fils de révolte |
| Avec mes comédiens, |
| De Colombine désinvolte |
| En singe d’Arlequin, |
| La pièce n’est pas si gentille |
| Quand le valet |
| Vole la fortune et la fille |
| De celui qui le paie. |
| Tu as bien applaudi, merci |
| Tu t’es levé, tu es parti. |
| T'étais vivant, Messieurs, Mesdames, |
| T'étais vivant, |
| Quand tu venais aux mélodrames |
| De pantomime en mimodrames. |
| T'étais vivant |
| Et si tu payais pas souvent |
| Au moins, tu savais t’en aller |
| Quand le spectacle était mauvais. |
| Eh, tu as l’air de quoi dans ton fauteuil, |
| A écouter bêler ce gratteur de guitare? |
| Regarde-moi, et puis compare |
| Si tu as encore un œil. |
| A moi tous ceux qui me ressemblent, |
| Les valets, les piétons, |
| Timides, muets, ceux qui tremblent |
| Devant tous les bâtons, |
| C'était des coups de pied aux fesses, |
| Des cris de joies |
| Que j’espérais dans cette pièce |
| Que vous jouez en bas. |
| Quand le dénouement va venir |
| Je s’rai trop vieux pour applaudir. |
| Descends de ton croissant de lune |
| Juste une fois |
| Si tu ne veux pas pour des prunes |
| User ta voix. |
| Rester là-haut, c’est un peu comme |
| Si tu criais dans un désert. |
| Descends de là, si t’es un homme, |
| Te battre avec la terre. |
| Assis sur son croissant de lune, |
| Pierre répond: |
| «Moi qui ne suis un homme en aucune |
| De vos façons, |
| Moi qui suis fait de différences |
| Tantôt tout blanc, tantôt tout noir |
| J’arrive au pays des nuances |
| Tout est grisaille ici ce soir. |
| Avez-vous regardé d’abord |
| Le pays qui vous sert de piste. |
| Je n’ai jamais vu de décor |
| Si sinistre. |
| Quel est donc ce décorateur |
| Pour qui le sinistre est de mise |
| Et qui ne sait qu’une couleur: |
| La grise? |
| Quel est donc ce peintre maudit |
| Qui a dessiné sur la toile |
| La toile de fond de Paris |
| En y oubliant les étoiles? |
| Comme ton costume a changé! |
| Où sont les carreaux de ta veste? |
| Arlequin, ton masque est jeté, |
| Tu restes, |
| Sans ton chapeau, sans tes manies, |
| Tu restes le perdant qui gagne |
| Mais qui ne gagne que sa vie |
| Au bagne. |
| Comme ton allure a changé! |
| Plus de sauts, plus de cabrioles. |
| Tu vas au boulot résigné. |
| C’est ton auto qui te console. |
| Colombine, quel est l’auteur |
| Qui a pondu pour toi ce rôle |
| Ni gai, ni simple, ni charmeur |
| Ni drôle? |
| Depuis qu’un tas d’honnêteté |
| T’a prise avec lui en ménage, |
| Femme dans cette société |
| Tu nages. |
| Tu nages dans tes draps de lit, |
| Tu nages dans l’eau de vaisselle. |
| A tant te battre, tu oublies |
| Que de mon temps tu étais belle. |
| On ne te vole plus ton or, |
| Harpagon, Pantalon, Cassandre. |
| Il a bien grandi le trésor |
| A prendre |
| Et tu possèdes, maintenant |
| Que tu as pris goût aux affaires, |
| Les rois, les hommes, les enfants |
| La terre. |
| Comme on ne te reconnaît plus |
| Sous tes sociétes anonymes, |
| Jamais les coups de pied au cul |
| Ne peuvent trouver leur victime |
| Et toi tu joues, Messieurs, Mesdames, |
| Et toi tu joues |
| Ce lamentable mélodrame |
| De pantomime en mimodrame. |
| Et toi tu joues. |
| Es-tu sûr d’arriver au bout? |
| Sans t’apercevoir à la fin. |
| Que ce contrat ne valait rien |
| Eh, tu as l’air de quoi dans ton habit. |
| S’il suffisait d’avoir un peu de maquillage |
| Pour se changer cœur et visage, |
| Tu serais un gênie. |
| Tu sais, c’est pas écrit d’avance, |
| Juste un petit dessin. |
| Ça s’improvise, ça se danse, |
| Tu peux changer la fin. |
| Cesse de rabâcher ton texte, |
| Mauvais acteur. |
| Saute sur le premier prétexte |
| Si tu n’as pas trop peur. |
| De mon silence, enfin, je sors. |
| Écoute-moi, fais un effort. |
| Tu vas mourir, Messieurs, Mesdames, |
| Tu vas mourir |
| Pour terminer le mélodrame |
| De pantomime en mimodrame. |
| Tu vas mourir |
| Sans avoir jamais su sourire. |
| Le rideau tombe et demain soir |
| On te remplace et ça repart. |
| Va-t'en sur ton croissant de lune, |
| Pierrot bavard. |
| Tu vas déchaîner la rancune |
| Du désespoir. |
| Si t’es venu dire à la terre |
| Que cette vie mene au trépas, |
| Reste muet, reste lunaire. |
| On ne t’en voudra pas. |
| Assis sur son croissant de lune, |
| Pierrot s’en va. |
| (translation) |
| Sitting on his crescent moon, |
| Pierrot waits |
| Somebody give him back his quill. |
| Since the time, |
| Since the time it was stolen from him |
| To send small words, |
| Pierrot is going to speak. |
| Listen carefully Pierrot. |
| Sitting on his crescent moon |
| As a spectator, |
| From his gleaming rostrum |
| Of our misfortunes, |
| Pierrot has so many things to say |
| That if you don't hurry |
| To give her something to write, |
| Pierrot will start shouting: |
| “I was alive, gentlemen and ladies, |
| I was alive |
| When I played melodramas |
| From pantomimes to mimodramas. |
| I was alive |
| And if I was often silent, |
| It's that love is much more beautiful |
| With hands than with words. |
| Hey, look what they've done to me: |
| A blissful inhabitant of your lunar countries |
| And who, by dint of being silent, |
| Go away dreaming alone. |
| Yet I was a son of rebellion |
| With my actors |
| From Casual Colombine |
| As a Harlequin monkey, |
| The room is not so nice |
| When the valet |
| Steal the fortune and the girl |
| From him who pays it. |
| You applauded well, thank you |
| You got up, you left. |
| You were alive, gentlemen and ladies, |
| You were alive |
| When you came to melodramas |
| From pantomime to mimodramas. |
| you were alive |
| What if you don't pay often |
| At least you knew how to walk away |
| When the show was bad. |
| Hey, what do you look like in your chair, |
| Listening to this guitar scratcher bleat? |
| Look at me, and then compare |
| If you still have an eye. |
| To me all who resemble me, |
| servants, pedestrians, |
| Timid, dumb, those who tremble |
| In front of all the sticks, |
| It was kicking ass, |
| Screams of joy |
| What I hoped for in this room |
| That you play downstairs. |
| When the outcome will come |
| I will be too old to applaud. |
| Come down from your crescent moon |
| Just once |
| If you don't want for plums |
| Use your voice. |
| Staying up there is kinda like |
| If you were screaming in a desert. |
| Get down from there, if you're a man, |
| Fight with the earth. |
| Sitting on his crescent moon, |
| Peter responds: |
| "I who am not a man in any way |
| In your ways, |
| I who am made of differences |
| Sometimes all white, sometimes all black |
| I come to the land of shades |
| All is gray here tonight. |
| Did you look first |
| The country you use as your lead. |
| I have never seen a decor |
| So grim. |
| Who is this decorator |
| For whom disaster is appropriate |
| And who only knows one color: |
| The grey? |
| Who is this cursed painter |
| Who drew on the canvas |
| The backdrop of Paris |
| By forgetting the stars? |
| How your costume has changed! |
| Where are the checks on your jacket? |
| Harlequin, your mask is thrown away, |
| You stay, |
| Without your hat, without your quirks, |
| You remain the loser who wins |
| But who only earns his living |
| In prison. |
| How your look has changed! |
| More jumps, more somersaults. |
| You go to work resigned. |
| It is your self that consoles you. |
| Colombine, who is the author |
| Who laid this role for you |
| Neither gay, nor simple, nor charming |
| Nor funny? |
| Since a bunch of honesty |
| took you in with him, |
| woman in this society |
| You swim. |
| You're swimming in your bed sheets, |
| You're swimming in dishwater. |
| To fight so much, you forget |
| That in my time you were beautiful. |
| We don't steal your gold anymore, |
| Harpagon, Pants, Cassandra. |
| He grew the treasure well |
| To take |
| And you now own |
| That you took a liking to business, |
| Kings, men, children |
| Earth. |
| As you are no longer recognized |
| Under your limited companies, |
| Never the kicks in the ass |
| Can't find their victim |
| And you are playing, gentlemen, ladies, |
| And you play |
| This lamentable melodrama |
| From pantomime to mimodrama. |
| And you are playing. |
| Are you sure you'll get to the end? |
| Without noticing you at the end. |
| That this contract was worth nothing |
| Hey, what do you look like in your suit. |
| If it was enough to have a little makeup |
| To change heart and face, |
| You would be a genius. |
| You know, it's not scripted, |
| Just a little drawing. |
| It's improvised, it's danced, |
| You can change the ending. |
| Stop harping on your text, |
| Bad actor. |
| Jump on the first excuse |
| If you're not too scared. |
| From my silence, at last, I come out. |
| Listen to me, make an effort. |
| You are going to die, gentlemen and ladies, |
| You'll die |
| To end the melodrama |
| From pantomime to mimodrama. |
| You'll die |
| Never knowing how to smile. |
| The curtain falls and tomorrow night |
| We replace you and it starts again. |
| Go away on your crescent moon, |
| Talkative Pierrot. |
| You will unleash the grudge |
| Of despair. |
| If you came to tell the earth |
| May this life lead to death, |
| Remain silent, remain lunar. |
| We won't blame you. |
| Sitting on his crescent moon, |
| Pierrot leaves. |
| Name | Year |
|---|---|
| San Francisco | 2010 |
| Comme Un Arbre | 1988 |
| Né Quelque Part | 1988 |
| Ambalaba | 1988 |
| Les Jours Meilleurs | 1988 |
| La Rouille | 1988 |
| Passer ma route | 2021 |
| Fontenay Aux Roses | 2009 |
| Histoire De Plantes | 1988 |
| La Chanson Des Vieux Amants | 1988 |
| Une Cousine | 1988 |
| Frisson D'Avril | 1988 |
| After Shave | 1988 |
| La visite | 1988 |
| Les Deux Mains Prises | 1988 |
| La complainte des filles de joie | 2021 |
| Je suis un voyou | 2021 |
| La guerre de 14-18 | 2004 |
| Auprès de mon arbre | 2021 |
| Caricature | 2019 |