MA VRAIE NATURE - MY TRUE NATURE

                                                   DERRIERE L'ARBRE, LA FORET



                                                         Il est un endroit magique

                                                      Où tout est resté authentique.

                                                       Ce n'est pas un conte de fée

                                                      Qui se déroule dans ces taillis,

                                                       Je préfère plutôt vous parler

                                                     D'une certaine richesse d'envie.

                                                  Car l'existence y est parfois féroce,

                                                      Mais qu'y a-t-il de plus atroce :

                                                Vivre libre guetté par tous les dangers

                                                      Ou dans un enclos prisonnier ?

                                               J'aime l'odeur du vent dans mes naseaux,

                                             Le bruissement des feuilles sous mes sabots.

                                                   Au moindre bruit changer de route

                                                  Pour mes ennemis mettre en déroute.

                                                   Je ne vivrai certainement pas vieux

                                                         Mais j'aurai été heureux.




 MY TRANSLATION


                                                BEHIND THE TREE, THE FOREST
 

                                                          It is a magical place

                                                Where everything remained authentic.

                                                        This is not a fairy tale

                                                   That takes place in these copse,

                                                      I would rather talk to you

                                                      A certain wealth of envy.

                                              Because here the life is sometimes fierce,

                                              But which option is the most atrocious :

                                              Free live watched for by all the dangers

                                                  Or in an enclosure like a prisoner?

                                             I love the smell of the wind in my nostrils,

                                               The rustling of leaves under my hooves.

                                                At the slightest sound change direction

                                                        For my enemies put to rout.

                                                         I certainly do not live old

                                                        But I will have been happy.