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Hunter F. Thompson
offlineMember
Rough and hasty translation, cannot be sung to the same tune:
In our world of today we are not allowed to be hungry be cold
Overwhelmed, every man for himself, I think only of myself
And you only of yourself. Lost and helpless, all we need is something to eat
and a little to drink: a crust of bread and somewhere warm...
Petroleum states run by mafias, where there's no work and nothing left to eat and riots in the street.
I'd better check out before they dump some more Tronjans on me.
arflaethel
offlineMember
That's lovely, Hunter, I really hope this is a giant awakening, not just a flash in the pan or religous bollocks..........something that stuck in my mind from Asterix the Gaul.....fierce warriors proclaiming their allegiences, and the little chap in the corner, probably the most deadly;
....Par Toutasis!......
.Par Thor!......
.Par Example !
Hunter F. Thompson
offlineMember
Why are there ...no jobs, no food....in Algeria? They're all lefties. Thatcher & Pinochet, in bed with the Straw man.
Hunter F. Thompson
offlineMember
Not quite the line I thought I was laying out: populations ritually humiliated and brought to their knees by the violent imposition of discredited economic theories which have failed, failed and failed again -- except for the very few who - as we see -- fight poverty like Cory Tunts: tear gas, death squads, live bullets, and thugs. Thatcher & Pinochet in bed with the Straw man.
Pip pip.
Hunter F. Thompson
offlineMember
....the original 1986 version of the song, with its own visuals??what was nice was the clapping of hands, applause.
Colluche was a French standup comedian, who invented what he called "Les Restos du Coeur..."
Hunter F. Thompson
offlineMember
Aujourd’hui, on n’a plus le droit
Ni d’avoir faim, ni d’avoir froid
Dépassé, chacun pour soi,
Je pense à toi, tu penses à moi.
Je ne te promets pas le grand soir
Mais juste à manger et à boire
Un peu de pain et de chaleur
Dans les Restos, les Restos du Cœur
Killer line : It’s not my fault qu’il y en a qui ont faim
Mais ca le deviendrait, si l’on ne changeait rien.
The way things are is you haven’t the right
To be hungry and cold on a bleak winter’s night!
We’re all overwhelmed, it’s each man for himself,
My thought for you might be one for myself.
I can hardly promise a night on the town
Just a meal and a drink when you’re floundering, down,
A crust of bread and a warm place to stir
Hot sugared tea at the Restos du Coeur.
Verse: (one of them) It isn’t my fault the poor go without food
But if I did nothing, it certainly would.
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