Translation of the song lyrics Les pensées - THE ARCHITECT

Les pensées (original)

Imaginez la forme de la boite crânienne
Son épaisseur, sa dureté
Comparez le plan mental a une scene de théâtre
Sur laquelle évolue des personnages, ce sont les images, les pensées
Ordonnez a ses acteurs de se retirer, et conservez une seule image
Installez vous dans cette pensée et a ce moment vous cessez de faire
Et commencez a être
You gotta move, you gotta move
You gotta move child you got to move
You maybe high, you maybe low
You maybe rich child you maybe poor
You gotta move, you gotta move
You gotta move child you got to move
You maybe high, you maybe low
You maybe rich child you maybe poor
Respirez profondément
Les pensées
Laissez se faire le flux et le reflux
C’est alors qu'émerge l’essentiel
Ce que l’ont est
You gotta move, you gotta move
You gotta move child you got to move
You maybe high, you maybe low
You maybe rich child you maybe poor
You gotta move, you gotta move
You gotta move child you got to move
You maybe high, you maybe low
You maybe rich child you maybe poor
Vous êtes tranquillité

Les pensées (translation)

Envision now the skull, its cryptic shell,
Its armored thickness, stony, sure, and grave,
Set mind's design beside a stage's spell,
Where spectral actors glide—thought, image, wave.
Command the players hence: let all but one withdraw,
Sink deep within that image—here, abandon deed,
And from undoing, let pure being draw.
You must be moved—the current pulls the reed.
You must be moved, child, for the wind will not relent.
Perhaps you taste the heights, perhaps the hollows bend,
Perhaps you cradle gold, or mend with empty hands.
You must be moved—the river never ends.
You must be moved, child, for the wind will not relent.
Perhaps you taste the heights, perhaps the hollows bend,
Perhaps you cradle gold, or mend with empty hands.
Draw breath as if you drank the silent dusk,
Thoughts—
Let ebb and flood uncoil their ancient musk.
From this salt tide, the innermost ascends—
The kernel of our essence, born, not made.
You must be moved—the current pulls the reed.
You must be moved, child, for the wind will not relent.
Perhaps you taste the heights, perhaps the hollows bend,
Perhaps you cradle gold, or mend with empty hands.
You must be moved—the river never ends.
You must be moved, child, for the wind will not relent.
Perhaps you taste the heights, perhaps the hollows bend,
Perhaps you cradle gold, or mend with empty hands.
Now you are stillness, deep and undismayed.