Absent people (Les gens absents) - Francis Cabrel

Absent people (Les gens absents)


I spent winter

Waiting for a word,

It’s like the desert

Under a drop of water,

The boat upside down

Laying on trestles:

We can see through it,

It is used by birds.


I saw the spring

Going down the horizon,

Animals and people

Going out of houses,

Birds singing

Not knowing why…

And I still was

Without news from you.


Around houses

Another summer blazes,

Some nestlings

Already fly away,

Fragile flakes

In front of the weightlessness,

In the deep blue

Of great heat.


On the top of pylons,

Traveling birds

Are waiting for autumn

As watchmen.

Flowers and men

Are loosing their colors…

And still nobody

On the answering machine.


Absent people,

That’s what’s annoying,

Keep turning around

There, in front of our eyes.

We believed undoing

The embrace sharply,

And then, finally,

We wake up with it.


Just one question

Does it always last

These manias they have

To turn around ?

We speak while sleeping,

Is it normal ?

Absent people,

Everything is equal to them.


I spent the winter…

As the desert…

The heart upside down…

We see through it…


What are these stories

Of flowers, of seasons,

Of strange birds

Who come and go?

These are detours,

It is for you to understand

That I’m hanging on

Things that return.