Ballade cuntre lo Anemi francor (English translation)

Ballad against the enemies of France (2009)

Ballade (heruitgave)

(Unless otherwise indicated, lyrics were translated by M. D. L. & L’Atrabilaire, courtesy of La mesnie Herlequin.)

ballade

Go here for translations of the other Peste Noire albums.

Neire Peste [Black Death]sacré

Audrey: ‘Holy God, Holy Strong, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us.’ [1]

Man’s voice: ‘France must re-become France’,
Plague!

Man’s voice: ‘France must re-become France’,
Plague!

Man’s voice: ‘France must re-become France’,
Plague!

[1] Translation of this Russian fragment, taken from the Eastern Orthodox Trisagion prayers, lifted from the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church.

La mesniee mordrissoire [The killing company]

To liberate the country enchained
To break its bonds and kill its enemies
It takes men immured to pain
One for all and all for one united…

In the night, the camp fires are lit
The men of the Clan assemble,
To celebrate with our songs
Our blood and strength.

Young warriors intrepid and bold,coeur
Ignorant of cowardly remorse,
The pure eye in the enemy’s face,
Spilt blood strengthens our race.

We sing for our springs and woods,
Glorious race.
Our plains, paths and roofs,
Living race!
Our vine, our wheat, our honey,
Our winds, our snows and our sun.

For our sons who die in battle
Ever ready, never stepping back.
Loyal to our chiefs, trusting in the Devil,
Will know how to guard the land of our noble ancestors,
When dawn will extinguish the campfires
All the men of the clan will rise up
For the conquest, for victory or death

Man’s voice: ‘So, let’s raise up the star of past worth
The world has need of light,
The world has need of France,
France has need of all Frenchmen.’

We sing for our springs and woods,
Our plains, paths and roofs,
Our vines, wheat and honey,
Our wind, snow and sun,
Living sun.
Farewell old Europe.

Ballade cuntre les anemis de la France [Ballad against the enemies of France] (by François Villon (1431-1463))

May he fall in with beasts that scatter fire,
Like Jason, when he sought the fleece of gold,
Or change from man to beast three years entire,
As King Nebuchadnezzar did of old;
Or else have times as shameful and as bad
As Trojan folk for ravished Helen had;
Or gulfed with Proserpine and Tantalus
Let hell’s deep fen devour him dolorous,
With worse to bear than Job’s worst sufferance,villon 2
Bound in his prison-maze with Dædalus,
Who could wish evil to the state of France!

May he four months, like bitterns in the mire,
Howl with head downmost in the lakesprings cold
Or to bear harness like strong bulls for hire
To the Great Turk for money down be so!
Or thirty years like Magdalen live sad,
With neither wool nor web of linen clad;
Drown like Narciss’, or swing down pendulous
Like Absalom with locks luxurious,
Or liker Judas fallen to reprobance;
Or find such death as Simon sorcerous,
Who could wish evil to the state of France!

May the old times come of fierce Octavian’s ire,
And in his belly molten cold be told;
May he like Victor in the mill expire,
Crush between moving millstones on him rolled,
Or in deep sea drenched breathless, more adrad
Than in the whale’s bulk Jonas, when God bade:
From Phœbus’ light, from Juno’s treasure-house
Drive, and from joys of Venus amorous,
And cursed of God most high to the utterance,
As was the Syrian king Antiochus,
Who could wish evil to the state of France!

Prince, may the bright-winged brood of Æolus
To sea-king Glaucus’ wild wood cavernous
Bear him bereft of peace and hope’s least glance,
For worthless is he to get good of us,
Who could wish evil to the state of France!

Translated by Algernon Charles Swinburne.

Concerto pour cloportes [Concerto for Woodlice]

Instrumental

La France Bouge – par KPN (chant de l’Action Française) [France Stirs]

Daring! France first!
Frenchman, death is better than slavery.roi
Glory to those who fall!
All to work! France will be born again.

No no! France stirs, she sees red!
No no! Enough betrayals!

Insolent wretch, shut up!
Here comes the king, and our race
Runs ahead of him
Wretch, in your place! Our king leads us.

One two! France stirs, she sees red!
One two! The French are at home.

A la mortaille! [To Death!]

I

Death rides across the land,
Indiscriminately seizing heroes and the banished
Flee enemies, if not you will diegeneralísimo
When face-to-face with her, we have no regrets
Chorus: Death that stalks our paths

II

Trembling before you the cowardly and impure
Because they soon will become your repast.
We will charge them without fear of you, O Death,
Because you are our friend and we will win again.

III

Death scythes, cuts down and devastates,
Decimating our ranks, striking the survivors,
But in the evening we will sing her praises,
Without resentment, as she is an old companion.

IV

One day at last you will come to take us,
At your side we will be proud to leave.
The gods of war will welcome us,
We’ll then feast and drink,
In your honour,
O Death that stalked our paths.

regiment

Vespre [Vesper]

Instrumental

Rance Black Metal de France [Rancid Black Metal of France]

Yesterday, friends, it was an adventure,france 2
The war, the roads and bloody battles
We have gained an iron will,
Friends, France awaits us!

We walk cheerfully in rhythm,
Despite the wind, despite the rain,
The finest soldiers of France,
Are standing here before you.

By the roads flooded with light,
Our songs rise to meet the new day
In the morning air flutter our banners,
Our faith lives in our flags.
Honour, Loyalty

Yesterday, friends, it was an adventure
The war, the roads and bloody battles
We have gained an iron will,
Friends, France awaits us!

Everywhere misery clutches at us,
Our people suffers a thousand ills,
But our hearts, steeled for battle,
Will give birth to a new era.

By the roads flooded with light,
Our songs rise to meet the new day
In the morning air flutter our banners
Our faith lives in our flags
Rancid, France
Rancid Black, Rancid Black metal from France!

Requiem pour Nioka (à un berger allemand) [Requiem for Nioka (to a German Shepherd)]

Instrumental

blaffen-ss

Soleils couchants [Setting Suns]

(by Paul Verlaine taken from Poems Under Saturn, 1866)

A weakened dawn
Sheds over the fields
The melancholy
Of setting suns.soleilnoir

Melancholy
Cradles with sweet songs
My oblivious heart
Amid setting suns.

And strange dreams
Like suns setting
On shores,
Vermillion ghosts,
Process ceaselessly
Process like
Great suns
Setting on the shores.

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Molotov cocktail in the face of music whorenalism.