French song appreciation - Ces gens-la

Today we watch a performance that's hard to forget. Belgian singer song writer and actor Jacques Brel's 1966 performance of "Ces gens-la". I provide the background and just enough translation to hopefully allow an English speaking person to appreciate the song. If you are ready to experience something new, jump in! English translation First of… First, there is the elder He’s like a cantaloupe He has a big nose He doesn’t know his name anymore, Monsieur, because he drinks so much Or because he’s been drinking so much He does not do anything at all But he’s spent He’s dead drunk And he thinks he’s a king He gets drunk every night On bad wine But in the morning, he can be found At church, asleep Rigid as a stone shelf White as an Easter candle And he’s slurring his speech And he’s gaze wanders I have to tell you, Monsieur These people, They don’t think, Monsieur They don’t think They pray And then there is the other one A carrot head Who’s never seen a comb Who’s nasty as they come Even if he would give his shirt To happy poor people He married Denise A city girl, or at any rate from another town And that’s not all He does his small business With his small hat And his small coat And his small automobile He would love to look like he’s someone When he’s a nobody One should not act rich When one is broke I have to tell you, Monsieur These people, They don’t live, Monsieur They don’t live They cheat And then there are the others The mother who doesn’t say anything Or nothing that makes sense or of importance And from evening to morning Under his handsome, saintly face And in his wooden frame There is the father’s mustache Who died by slipping and falling And who watches his herd As they slurp their cold soup loudly And then there is the very old one Who can’t stop vibrating And everyone is waiting for her to croak Since she has the family fortune No-one listens to What her old hands tell I have to tell you, Monsieur These people, They don’t talk, Monsieur They don’t talk They count And then, And then, And then there is Frida! She’s beautiful as the Sun! And who loves me, the same way As I love Frida! We often dream Of a house together With lots of windows And very few walls And we will live in it And it will be nice there And if we’re not sure about this future It’s probably because The others do not want that They do not want that The others say That she’s too beautiful for me That all I am good for Is to kill cats I never killed a cat Or it was a long time ago Or I forgot Or they did not smell good At any rate, they disagree At any rate, they disagree Sometimes, when we meet In a “chance” encounter Tearing up She says she’ll leave That she will follow me For a moment, Just a moment I believe her, Monsieur For an instant Only an instant Because in that family, Monsieur No-one leaves No-one leaves, Monsieur No-one leaves But it’s getting late, Monsieur I need to go home