YouTube video by Disques La Tribu

What's this life worth, here-below?

New Year's is upon us again, and as usual I'm in a reflective mood. This time I've got the Cowboys Fringants' _Ici-bas_ running through my head. Les Cowboys have an unusual gift for couching poetry in vernacular speech, and it only gains in power what it loses in polish. Since the group lost its lead singer to prostate cancer just last month, this song has been much in my thoughts. The video itself is a significant, Cowboys-worthy bonus; like another, unwritten verse, pumping context into words that might otherwise read more grimly than intended. Note all the visual metaphors for growing up and growing old, and also the classic backstreet scenes from some Québécois town. (All Québécois towns have an uncanny knack for being distinct and the same at the same time, and this one – whoever it is – makes me homesick for my own.) And finally, of course, that heart-pulling winter: much more than a simple season, it's a kind of family member in Québec – a relationship hard to grasp beyond the Ottawa. None of which is hurt by an additional call-out to my enduring love of taking long walks through it, both in town and nearer home. « Ici-bas » literally means the here-below, an expression that exists in English but is much more current in French. It implies the fishbowl nature of the human lot -- its claustrophobic smallness, the impossibility of escaping it with our lives. And also the unity of our experience, whether we choose to accept it or not. All of which made translating even the title tough. At last I went with _Down Here_ , with its implied awareness of the great not-Earth, and the modesty of our little neighbourhood and our existence in it. Follows the usual heartbreak of reclothing sublime images in clunky foreign syntax. Does « trafic » refer to backroom intrigue, or is it just traffic? Because it's both in French, and the writer almost certainly meant both. And what of « faucher » (to scythe), mostly used in these industrial times to describe what Death does. Strike down, we might say, but that would leave a richer metaphor by the roadside. Nothing English gets us there as completely and concisely; you just have to take your best shot and move on. Any road, I suggest you first listen to the song while reading the lyrics and ignoring the video, to savour the full impact of the message. Then run through the video again, watching it this time. Either way, it's a touching meditation on The Great Matter. Best of luck in the coming year, and may we remember and honour each other, here-below. _(Note: an English translation follows the French lyrics.)_ _Ici-bas_ paroles et musique: Jean-François Pauzé Malgré nos vies qui s’emballent dans une époque folle Où un rien nous détourne du simple instant présent Alors que tout s’envole Avec le temps Malgré la mort, celle qui frappe et qui nous fait pleurer Ou bien celle qui un jour, tôt ou tard, nous fauchera Je m’accroche les pieds Ici-bas Malgré l’amour celui qui nous fait vivre d’espoir Qui parfois fait si mal quand on reste sur le seuil D’une trop courte histoire Sans qu’on le veuille Malgré la haine qui souvent nous retombe sur le nez Et les caves qui s’abreuvent de ce triste crachat Je m’accroche les pieds Ici-bas Ici-bas Tant que mes yeux s’ouvriront Je cherch’rai dans l’horizon La brèche qui s’ouvre sur mes décombres La lueur dans les jours plus sombres Tant que mes pieds marcheront J’avancerai comme un con Avec l’espoir dans chaque pas Et ce jusqu’à mon dernier souffle Ici-bas Malgré les merdes, les revers, les choses qui nous échappent Les p’tits, les grands tourments, les erreurs de parcours Et tout c’qui nous rattrape Dans le détour Malgré l’ennui, le trafic, les rêves inachevés La routine, le cynisme, l’hiver qui finit pas Je m’accroche les pieds Ici-bas Ici-bas Tant que mes yeux s’ouvriront Je cherch’rai dans l’horizon La brèche qui s’ouvre sur mes décombres La lueur dans les jours plus sombres Tant que mes pieds marcheront J’avancerai comme un con Avec l’espoir dans chaque pas Et ce jusqu’à mon dernier souffle Ici-bas _Down Here_ words and music by Jean-François Pauzé In spite of the way our lives spin out of control in this daft epoch Where an anything can pull us out of the moment we're in While it all flies away Over time In spite of the deaths that strike and leave us crying Or the one that one day, sooner or later, will cut us down I will plant my feet Down here In spite of the love that allows us to live in hope But sometimes hurts so bad we remain stuck on the edge Of a story cut too short Like it or not In spite of the hate so often blown back in our face And the caverns storing up all that wretched spit I will plant my feet Down here Down here So long as my eyes still open I will search the horizon For the chink that will shine on my ruins A light in my darkest days So long as my feet will still walk I'll forge ahead like an idiot Hope in every step Right to my last breath Down here In spite of the hassles, the setbacks, the ones that got away The small wounds and the great, the wrong turns And all that trips us up In the detour In spite of the boredom, the traffic, the unfulfilled dreams The routine, the cynicism, the endless winters I will plant my feet Down here Down here So long as my eyes still open I will search the horizon For the chink that will shine on my ruins A light in my darkest days So long as my feet will still walk I'll forge ahead like an idiot Hope in every step Right to my last breath Down here

New Year's is upon us again, and as usual I'm in a reflective mood. This time I've got the Cowboys Fringants' _Ici-bas_ running through my head. Les Cowboys have an unusual gift for couching poetry in vernacular speech, and it only gains in power what it loses in polish. Since the group lost its lead singer to prostate cancer just last month, this song has been much in my thoughts. The video itself is a significant, Cowboys-worthy bonus; like another, unwritten verse, pumping context into words that might otherwise read more grimly than intended. Note all the visual metaphors for growing up and growing old, and also the classic backstreet scenes from some Québécois town. (All Québécois towns have an uncanny knack for being distinct and the same at the same time, and this one – whoever it is – makes me homesick for my own.) And finally, of course, that heart-pulling winter: much more than a simple season, it's a kind of family member in Québec – a relationship hard to grasp beyond the Ottawa. None of which is hurt by an additional call-out to my enduring love of taking long walks through it, both in town and nearer home. « Ici-bas » literally means the here-below, an expression that exists in English but is much more current in French. It implies the fishbowl nature of the human lot -- its claustrophobic smallness, the impossibility of escaping it with our lives. And also the unity of our experience, whether we choose to accept it or not. All of which made translating even the title tough. At last I went with _Down Here_ , with its implied awareness of the great not-Earth, and the modesty of our little neighbourhood and our existence in it. Follows the usual heartbreak of reclothing sublime images in clunky foreign syntax. Does « trafic » refer to backroom intrigue, or is it just traffic? Because it's both in French, and the writer almost certainly meant both. And what of « faucher » (to scythe), mostly used in these industrial times to describe what Death does. Strike down, we might say, but that would leave a richer metaphor by the roadside. Nothing English gets us there as completely and concisely; you just have to take your best shot and move on. Any road, I suggest you first listen to the song while reading the lyrics and ignoring the video, to savour the full impact of the message. Then run through the video again, watching it this time. Either way, it's a touching meditation on The Great Matter. Best of luck in the coming year, and may we remember and honour each other, here-below. _(Note: an English translation follows the French lyrics.)_ _Ici-bas_ paroles et musique: Jean-François Pauzé Malgré nos vies qui s’emballent dans une époque folle Où un rien nous détourne du simple instant présent Alors que tout s’envole Avec le temps Malgré la mort, celle qui frappe et qui nous fait pleurer Ou bien celle qui un jour, tôt ou tard, nous fauchera Je m’accroche les pieds Ici-bas Malgré l’amour celui qui nous fait vivre d’espoir Qui parfois fait si mal quand on reste sur le seuil D’une trop courte histoire Sans qu’on le veuille Malgré la haine qui souvent nous retombe sur le nez Et les caves qui s’abreuvent de ce triste crachat Je m’accroche les pieds Ici-bas Ici-bas Tant que mes yeux s’ouvriront Je cherch’rai dans l’horizon La brèche qui s’ouvre sur mes décombres La lueur dans les jours plus sombres Tant que mes pieds marcheront J’avancerai comme un con Avec l’espoir dans chaque pas Et ce jusqu’à mon dernier souffle Ici-bas Malgré les merdes, les revers, les choses qui nous échappent Les p’tits, les grands tourments, les erreurs de parcours Et tout c’qui nous rattrape Dans le détour Malgré l’ennui, le trafic, les rêves inachevés La routine, le cynisme, l’hiver qui finit pas Je m’accroche les pieds Ici-bas Ici-bas Tant que mes yeux s’ouvriront Je cherch’rai dans l’horizon La brèche qui s’ouvre sur mes décombres La lueur dans les jours plus sombres Tant que mes pieds marcheront J’avancerai comme un con Avec l’espoir dans chaque pas Et ce jusqu’à mon dernier souffle Ici-bas _Down Here_ words and music by Jean-François Pauzé In spite of the way our lives spin out of control in this daft epoch Where an anything can pull us out of the moment we're in While it all flies away Over time In spite of the deaths that strike and leave us crying Or the one that one day, sooner or later, will cut us down I will plant my feet Down here In spite of the love that allows us to live in hope But sometimes hurts so bad we remain stuck on the edge Of a story cut too short Like it or not In spite of the hate so often blown back in our face And the caverns storing up all that wretched spit I will plant my feet Down here Down here So long as my eyes still open I will search the horizon For the chink that will shine on my ruins A light in my darkest days So long as my feet will still walk I'll forge ahead like an idiot Hope in every step Right to my last breath Down here In spite of the hassles, the setbacks, the ones that got away The small wounds and the great, the wrong turns And all that trips us up In the detour In spite of the boredom, the traffic, the unfulfilled dreams The routine, the cynicism, the endless winters I will plant my feet Down here Down here So long as my eyes still open I will search the horizon For the chink that will shine on my ruins A light in my darkest days So long as my feet will still walk I'll forge ahead like an idiot Hope in every step Right to my last breath Down here

YouTube video by Les Cowboys Fringants - Topic

YouTube video by Disques La Tribu

YouTube video by Les Cowboys Fringants - Topic

YouTube video by Les Cowboys Fringants

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