Saturday, July 12, 2014

1 comment:

  1. ‘La Solitude,’ original words and music by Léo Ferré, © 1971. English adaptation by Peter Hawkins © 1989

    I come from another country, another culture, another solitude
    Right now I’m finding new ways of cutting across
    I no longer belong in your world – I’m waiting to mutate
    I get by with my own kind of biology: I piss, I spit, I cry
    It’s of vital importance that we shape our ideas as if they were mass-produced objects
    And I know how to get hold of the moulds… but…

    The solitude… solitude…
    The moulds are made of a new substance, I warn you: they were cast tomorrow morning
    If at this moment you don’t have a sense of the relativity of your own time-flow
    There’s no point in going any further with you, there’s no point in looking ahead
    Because ahead is behind, darkness is light, black is white,

    And… the solitude… solitude…

    It is of vital importance that the automatic launderettes on main street should be as imperturbable as flashing traffic lights
    The Detergent Police will show you to a cubicle where you will be allowed to disinfect what you imagine to be your consciousness and which is no more than an appendage of the neurophiliac computer that you call a brain…

    But… the solitude… solitude…

    Despair is a higher form of criticism: for the time being, let’s call it ‘happiness,’
    Since the words you use aren’t really words, but units in a process through which illiterates are able to find peace of mind…

    But… the solitude… solitude…

    We’ll talk about the legal system later
    For the moment I want to systematize anarchy
    I want to measure your infinitely absurd democracies
    I want to become a total vacuum, nothingness, null and void, non-speech, non-purity, non-emptiness, through a total lack of lucidity