Pauvre Martin
G. Brassens, 1953

Avec une bêche à l´épaule,
Avec, à la lèvre, un doux chant,
Avec, à la lèvre, un doux chant,
Avec, à l´âme, un grand courage,
Il s´en allait trimer aux champs!
Pauvre Martin, pauvre misère,
Creuse la terre, creuse le temps!

Pour gagner le pain de sa vie,
De l´aurore jusqu´au couchant,
De l´aurore jusqu´au couchant,
Il s´en allait bêcher la terre
En tous les lieux, par tous les temps!
Pauvre Martin, pauvre misère,
Creuse la terre, creuse le temps!

Sans laisser voir, sur son visage,
Ni l´air jaloux ni l´air méchant,
Ni l´air jaloux ni l´air méchant,
Il retournait le champ des autres,
Toujours bêchant, toujours bêchant!
Pauvre Martin, pauvre misère,
Creuse la terre, creuse le temps!

Et quand la mort lui a fait signe
De labourer son dernier champ,
De labourer son dernier champ,
Il creusa lui-même sa tombe
En faisant vite, en se cachant...
Pauvre Martin, pauvre misère,
Creuse la terre, creuse le temps!

Il creusa lui-même sa tombe
En faisant vite, en se cachant,
En faisant vite, en se cachant,
Et s´y étendit sans rien dire
Pour ne pas déranger les gens...
Pauvre Martin, pauvre misère,
Dors sous la terre, dors sous le temps!

Poor Martin
Didier Delahaye, 2004

With a shovel on his shoulder
On his rounded lips a whistle
On his rounded lips a whistle
His heart the size of a boulder
He went clearing fields of thistle.
Poor ole Martin, humble of birth
Dig away time, dig away earth!

To earn the salt of a living
From dawn until the day is done
From dawn until the day is done
Fields of stone he went a-clearing
In the rain or the glaring sun.
Poor ole Martin, humble of birth
Dig away time, dig away earth!

Without ever showing a trace
Of bitterness before his lot
Of bitterness before his lot
He toiled with a smile on his face
Ever digging another plot.
Poor ole Martin, humble of birth
Dig away time, dig away earth!

When death made upon him demand
That he go till his final field
That he go till his final field
He dug his grave with his own hand
With the falling night as his shield.
Poor ole Martin, humble of birth
Dig away time, dig away earth!

He made his grave, unseen, unheard
His heart weighing like a boulder
His heart weighing like a boulder
And laid himself without a word
Shovel resting on a shoulder.
Poor ole Martin, humble of birth
Dig away time, dig away earth!

He laid himself without a word
Shovel resting on a shoulder.
Poor ole Martin, humble of birth
Sleep away time, sleep away earth!