C’est écrit (It is Written), 1989
The narrator of this song is speaking to another man about the predictable and inevitable course of his relationship with a woman he loves. The title of the song (C’est écrit) implies that the course of this narrative is set or fixed and that destiny is unchangeable. The words C’est écrit recur with the force of a hammer on an anvil, announcing an inexorable fate that consists of irrepressible memories, ruined plans, elusive hopes and futile dreams. So be it, or “ainsi soit-il.”
The song was written for the 1989 album Sarbacane with lyrics by Francis Cabrel and music with his frequent collaborators Roger Secco and Michel Françoise. There is a clear, but unsettled, rhyming scheme.
The narrator of this song is speaking to another man about the predictable and inevitable course of his relationship with a woman he loves. The title of the song (C’est écrit) implies that the course of this narrative is set or fixed and that destiny is unchangeable. The words C’est écrit recur with the force of a hammer on an anvil, announcing an inexorable fate that consists of irrepressible memories, ruined plans, elusive hopes and futile dreams. So be it, or “ainsi soit-il.”
The song was written for the 1989 album Sarbacane with lyrics by Francis Cabrel and music with his frequent collaborators Roger Secco and Michel Françoise. There is a clear, but unsettled, rhyming scheme.
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Elle te fera changer la course des nuages, Balayer tes projets, vieillir bien avant l’âge Tu la perdras cent fois dans les vapeurs des ports, C’est écrit… Elle rentrera blessée dans les parfums d’un autre, Tu t’entendras hurler: « Que les diables l’emportent! » Elle voudra que tu pardonnes, et tu pardonneras, C’est écrit… Elle n’en sort plus de ta mémoire, Ni la nuit ni le jour. Elle danse derrière les brouillards. Et toi, tu cherches et tu cours. Tu prieras jusqu’aux heures où personne n’écoute, Tu videras tous les bars qu’elle mettra sur ta route. T’en passeras des nuits à regarder dehors, C’est écrit… Elle n’en sort plus de ta mémoire, Ni la nuit ni le jour. Elle danse derrière les brouillards. Et toi, tu cherches et tu cours, Mais y’a pas d’amours sans histoires. Et tu rêves, tu rêves… Qu’est-ce qu’elle aime? Qu’est-ce qu’elle veut? Et ces ombres qu’elle te dessine autour des yeux? Qu’est-ce qu’elle aime? Qu’est-ce qu’elle rêve? Qui elle voit? Et ces cordes qu’elle t’enroule autour des bras? Qu’est-ce qu’elle rêve? Je t’écouterai me dire ses soupirs, ses dentelles, Qu’à bien y réfléchir elle n’est plus vraiment belle, Que t’es déjà passé par des moments plus forts, Depuis… Elle n’en sort plus de ta mémoire, Ni la nuit ni le jour. Elle danse derrière les brouillards. Tu cherches et tu cours, Mais y’a pas d’amours sans histoires. Oh ! Tu rêves, tu rêves… Elle n’en sort plus de ta mémoire, Elle danse derrière les brouillards. Et moi j’ai vécu la même histoire; Depuis, je compte les jours. Depuis, je compte les jours Depuis, je compte les jours |
She will make you alter the path of clouds, Sweep away your plans, grow old before due time You will lose her a hundred times in the mists of ports, It is written… She will return wounded in another’s perfumes, You will hear yourself scream: “May the devil take her!” She’ll want you to forgive, and you will forgive, It is written… She never leaves your memory, Neither night nor day. She dances behind fogs. And you, you search and you run. You will pray till the hours when nobody hears, You will clear all the barriers she puts in your way. You will spend many nights looking outside, It is written… She no longer leaves your memory, Neither night nor day. She dances behind fogs. And you, you search and you run. But there is no love without troubles. And you dream, you dream… What does she like? What does she want? And these shadows she draws around your eyes? What does she like? What does she dream? Who does she see? And those ropes she coils around your arms? What does she dream? I shall listen to you tell me her sighs, her laces, That to think about it she’s not beautiful anymore, That you’ve already been through harder times, Since… She no longer leaves your memory, Neither night nor day. She dances behind fogs. You search and you run. But there is no love without troubles. Oh! You dream, you dream… She no longer leaves your memory, She dances behind fogs. And me, I’ve lived the same story; Since then, I count the days. Since then, I count the days Since then, I count the days |
NB:
- ainsi soit-il: means “so be it” or “amen.” “Soit” is the third personal singular subjunctive of the verb “être.”
- Que les diables l’emportent: “May the devils take her,” or “Damn her,” or “Go to hell;” it can even as be an expression of resignation as above: “ainsi soit-il” (“let it be”).
- Tu videras tous les bars: the context makes clear that this is not a literal translation such as “you will empty all the bars.”
- ses soupirs, ses dentelles: “soupirs” means sighs; “dentelles,” which means “laces,” carries an unclear colloquial meaning but likely refers to something intricate or complex.
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