Jean Ferrat - Louis Aragon - Epilogue

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Jean Ferrat - Louis Aragon - Epilogue

Original Title: "Epilogue"
Text: Louis Aragon

Life would have passed like a big sad castle that all the winds go through
The draughts slam the doors and yet no bedroom is closed
There sit some unknown persons poor and weary who knows why, some in arms
The grass grew in the ditches so that we can't lower its portcullis anymore

When I was young I was told that soon would come the victory of angels
Ah how I believed in it, how I believed in it then I became old
The time of the young people is for them like a forelock always falling back over their eyes
And what's left of it for the elderly is too heavy and too short that for them the wind changes

I will write those verses with arms wide open so that one can feel my heart beat there four times
Even if I have to die for it I will go beyond my throat and my voice, my breath and my song
I am the reaper drunk from reaping who is being seen laying waste to his life and his field
And panting of the time he loses there, who beats and beats again his scythe soundly

I see all what you have in front of you, of misfortune, of blood, of weariness
You would not have learned anything from our illusions, not understood a thing from our missteps
We were of no use to you you will have to pay the price at your turn
I see your shoulder bend. On your forehead I see the crease of the habits

Of course, of course you will tell me that it's always like that but precisely
Think about all those who put their living fingers, the flesh hands in the gearing
So that it changes and think of those who weren't even discussing their cage
May we have the right to despair, the right to stop for a moment

I will write those verses with arms wide open so that one can feel my heart beat there four times
Even if I have to die for it I will go beyond my throat and my voice, my breath and my song
I am the reaper drunk from reaping who is being seen laying waste to his life and his field
And panting of the time he loses there, who beats and beats again his scythe soundly

Think that we never stop to fight and that having vanquished is hardly a thing
And that everything is in the balance again from the moment that man is accountable of man
We have seen great things done but there have been dreadful ones
Because it nos always easy to know where is the evil where the good

And one day will come when you'll have on you the senseless sun of victory
Remember that we also knew that and that others climbed
To tear off the flag of servitude from the Acropolis and that they have been the ones,
Them and their glory, still panting, to be thrown in the common grave of History

I will write those verses with arms wide open so that one can feel my heart beat there four times
Even if I have to die for it I will go beyond my throat and my voice, my breath and my song
I am the reaper drunk from reaping who is being seen laying waste to his life and his field
And panting of the time he loses there, who beats and beats again his scythe soundly

I don't say that to demoralize you. One has to look straight at the emptiness
To know how to triumph against it. The song is not less beautiful when it declines
One has to know how to hear it elsewhere when it rebirths like the echo among the hills
We aren't the only one in the world to sing and the drama is the collection of songs

The drama one has to know how to keep its part in it and even if one voice goes quiet
Remember always that the deep chorus will take back the interrupted sentence
As long as the singer has up to the bottom of himself, done what he could
No matter if along the way you'll abandon me like an hypothesis

I will write those verses with arms wide open so that one can feel my heart beat there four times
Even if I have to die for it I will go beyond my throat and my voice, my breath and my song
I am the reaper drunk from reaping who is being seen laying waste to his life and his field
And panting of the time he loses there, who beats and beats again his scythe soundly

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