The Metic ( Le Métèque )
I first heard Georges Moustaki's "Le Métèque" when I was six or seven. I couldn't possibly have understood the lyrics in their entirety without an adult's life experience, but there were parts, however, that struck me viscerally, as I heard it for the very first time. I knew the "metic" was me, too, even before I fully understood what it meant to be me.
Le Métèque / The Metic ~ Lyrics in English
with my mouth of a metic of a wandering Jew, of a Greek shepherd and my hair with the four winds with my totally diluted eyes that put me in a dreaming state me, that doesn’t dream much anymore with my hands of a petty thief of a musician and of a prowler who plundered so many gardens with my mouth that drank that kissed and bit without ever appeasing its hunger
with my mouth of a metic of a wandering Jew, of a Greek shepherd of a thief and of a vagrant with my skin that rubbed with the sun of all the summers and all that wore underskirt with my heart that knew how to whistle as much as it suffered without making storied for that with my soul that no longer has the least chance to greet to avoid the purgatory
with my mouth of a metic of a wandering Jew, of a Greek shepherd and my hair with the four winds I will come, my sweet prisoner my soul mate, my source of life I will come to drink your twenty years and I’ll become the prince of blood a dreamer or even a teenager as you will like to choose and we will make of everyday all the eternity of love that we will live till we die
and we will make of everyday all the eternity of love that we will live till we die
“Le Métèque Avec ma gueule de métèque, de juif errant, de pâtre grec Et mes cheveux aux quatre vents Avec mes yeux tout délavés, qui me donnent l'air de rêver Moi qui ne rêve plus souvent. Avec mes mains de maraudeur, de musicien et de rôdeur Qui ont pillé tant de jardins Avec ma bouche qui a bu, qui a embrassé et mordu Sans jamais assouvir sa faim Avec ma gueule de métèque, de juif errant, de pâtre grec De voleur et de vagabond Avec ma peau qui s'est frottée au soleil de tous les étés Et tout ce qui portait jupon Avec mon coeur qui a su faire souffrir autant qu'il a souffert Sans pour cela faire d'histoire Avec mon âme qui n'a plus la moindre chance de salut Pour éviter le purgatoire.
Avec ma gueule de métèque, de juif errant, de pâtre grec Et mes cheveux aux quatre vents Je viendrai ma douce captive, mon âme soeur, ma source vive Je viendrai boire tes vingt ans Et je serai prince de sang, rêveur, ou bien adolescent Comme il te plaira de choisir Et nous ferons de chaque jour, toute une éternité d'amour Que nous vivrons à en mourir. Et nous ferons de chaque jour, toute une éternité d'amour Que nous vivrons à en mourir.” ― Georges Moustaki
Wikipedia entry for the word métèque: The French translation métèque has modernly acquired a pejorative meaning, being applied against Mediterranean immigrants, as in the works of Charles Maurras. According to Nicole Loraux, who compares Athens and Paris, it was probably better to be an Athenian Metic, than an immigrant in 1990s France.[6]
Curated from en.wikipedia.org
Click here to read a biography of Georges Moustaki on Mikis Theodorakis' tribute page.