Renaud
Mistral Gagnant
Tired
A statue will never be big enough
to exceed the top of the smallest poplar
and the trees have infinitely more tender hearts
than that of the men who planted them
To touch the wisdom that will never come
I would exchange the sap of the first olive tree
for my impure blood to be civilized
anonymous responsible for all the blood shed
Tired, tired
tired of lies and truth
that I thought was so beautiful , who I wanted to love
and who is so cruel that I burned myself
Tired, tired
Tired of living on planet earth
on this grain of dust, on this shabby stone
on this false star lost in the universe
cradle of stupidity and kingdom of evil
where the most evolved among the creatures
invented hatred, racism and war
and the cursed power that corrupts the purest
and causes the wise to spit on his brother
Tired, tired
tired of talking, tired of being silent
when you hurt a child, when you rape your mother
when half © of the world murders a third
Tired, tired
Tired of these men who killed the Indians,
massacred the whales and muzzled life,
exterminated the wolves, put collars on the dogs
who even managed to rot the rain
The list is far too long of everything that disgusts me
since the banal horror of the slightest news item
there is no longer enough room in my heart
to accommodate revolt, disgust, anger
Tired, tired
tired of hoping and tired of believing
in these ideas held up like standards
and for which so many men have known 'slaughterhouse
Tired, tired
I would like to be a tree, drink the water of the storms
feed on the earth, be a friend of the birds,
and then have the head so high in the clouds
that no man can plant a flag there
I would like to be a tree and plunge my roots
into the heart of this land that I love so much
and that fucking man murders every day
I would like silence at last, and then the wind...
Tired, tired
Tired of hating and tired to love
above all, never say anything anymore, never shout again
tired of speeches, of sacred words
Tired, tired
Tired, tired tired © of smiling, tired of crying
tired of looking for some traces of love
in the ocean of mud where thought sinks
Tired, tired

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