Après Moi Lyrics
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi, le deluge, after me comes the flood
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood
ПиÑать о феврале навзрыд.
Пока Ð³Ñ€Ð¾Ñ…Ð¾Ñ‡ÑƒÑ‰Ð°Ñ ÑлÑкоть
ВеÑною чёрною горит.
Pisat' O Fevraleh navzryd
Poka grohochuschaya slyakot'
Vesnoyu chornoyu gorit)
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, It's not my choice
You can't, can't break that, that
Which isn't, isn't yours, yours
I'm not, not my own, own
It's not, not my choice, choice
the russian words are a piece of a famouse russian poem by Boris Pasternak. Here is the traslation, but assure you, in Russian it sounds much more beatiful
February. Get ink, shed tears. Write of it, sob your heart out, sing, While torrential slush that roars Burns in the blackness of the spring.
sounds pretty good in english as well...
sounds pretty good in english as well...
@ElenaUndon I tried to translate it in french : Février. Prends de l'encre, verse des larmes. Écris-le, laisse pleurer ton cœur, chante, Pendant que la neige fondue en torrent qui rugit Brûle dans la noirceur du printemps.
@ElenaUndon I tried to translate it in french : Février. Prends de l'encre, verse des larmes. Écris-le, laisse pleurer ton cœur, chante, Pendant que la neige fondue en torrent qui rugit Brûle dans la noirceur du printemps.
This song has a sort of rhythm that reminds me of a revolutionary march. I believe regina may be mocking Russian totalitarian leaders like Stalin or Lenin pretending she was one of them and had their ideals. The lame (the crippled, the paralyzed, the handicapped in whatever way) are bringing down the fit and healthy who are faster, stronger, smarter. The elderly are bringing down the young and their future, the future of the revolution (souls). The "cold" (i believe this could mean the meek, lonely, or even the individualistic) are taking away from the lifeblood and the passionate conformity of the revolution. Boris Pasternak was a poet during the reign of the leaders of the Russian/Soviet revolution and his ideas and criticisms of them sometimes found their way into his poetry. The poem that the Russian lyrics are taken from has somewhat of an apocalyptic or after-the-war feel to it with a pinch of hope like Begin to Hope's subtle theme. Maybe regina is saying, with words taken from Madame de Pompadour (who is said to have had a premonition of the impending political and social collapse that was that lead to the French Revolution), is that though we can change things for the better we can also change things for the worse.
Your interpretation makes perfect sense!
Your interpretation makes perfect sense!
@monkeykillzbanana absolutely not. It only refers to old age and human destiny. Look at your grandpa and you will understand. You will also understand the feeling that after you are dead, everything will fall apart.
@monkeykillzbanana absolutely not. It only refers to old age and human destiny. Look at your grandpa and you will understand. You will also understand the feeling that after you are dead, everything will fall apart.
@monkeykillzbanana absolutely not. It only refers to old age and human destiny. Look at your grandpa and you will understand. You will also understand the feeling that after you are dead, everything will fall apart.
@monkeykillzbanana absolutely not. It only refers to old age and human destiny. Look at your grandpa and you will understand. You will also understand the feeling that after you are dead, everything will fall apart.
As far as "I must go on standing/ you can't break that which isn't yours/ I must go on standing/ I'm not my own its not my choice" to me, as a Jew from the same sort of background as Regina, it sounds like a common feeling we have. Our past is our ancestors, and while we're free to make our own choices, we tend to feel near overwhelming guilt over not carrying on traditions that we maybe feel are outdated. We are taught that our lives are not our own. That we live to honor those before us. We live to tell the stories of those who died, and those who survived. To me this song is a very Jewish song. It mirrors my own feelings of ancestory, responsiblity, guilt, expressed individuality, and history. My life is not my own, as it was passed down the line by my mother, who was given it by my grandmother, who was given it by my greatgrandmother, who was given my life through the mercy of G-d who saw it fit that she sould surrvive the camps, the walk from the camps to find home, and any shred of family or neighbor she could. I am to live my life to honor hers. To never take her struggle for granted. Its not my own to live well or live poorly as I please. Living a ruined life is a thankless life. I hear that struggle in Reginas words.
People mostly stick to the meaning of the Russian part and go deep in search for Pasternak bioghaphy details, historical allusions and so. These researches are nice. But I prefer to concentrate on the form itself. Look. The English part is about being strong: "I can't give up, I have no right to surrender, because after me everything will get ruined and those who depend on me will suffer". Then another side breaks through - we can see emotions of protaginist expressed in Russian (which mainly noone understands). This part is full of pain, hopelessness and all-pervading sorrow. But people can't understand this. This is the way to show something hidden from others. Then again comes a burst of self persuadng mantras - I! Must! Go! On! So I think this switching from English to Russian and back is the way to compare things on facade (English) and in the backyard (Russian) and the whole song is about torments of a strong personality.
It's actually..
february. get ink, shed tears. write of it, sob your heart out, sing. while torrential slush that roars, burns in the blackness of the spring.
February, get ink & weep Write about February stormily weep While rumbled slush Is keen to the black spring.
February, get ink & weep Write about February stormily weep While rumbled slush Is keen to the black spring.
ahhlina, I wrote your post directly above this one off as "maybe she didn't have time to translate it," but now it's apparent that you're just a cunt. Seriously, at least these people's translations are on the site so we have an idea of what they think it is, all I could grasp from your posts are that you're Russian and off-putting-ly rude.
ahhlina, I wrote your post directly above this one off as "maybe she didn't have time to translate it," but now it's apparent that you're just a cunt. Seriously, at least these people's translations are on the site so we have an idea of what they think it is, all I could grasp from your posts are that you're Russian and off-putting-ly rude.
Is anyone else annoyed when people think every song on this site is about someone wanting to kill themselves?
Not all music is a call for help...
It's from a Boris Pasternak poem, if anyone wants to know.
(He wrote Dr. Zhivago, oh yes he did.)
I really love this song
I believe the Russian part translatation is:
February, pick up your pen and weep, Write poems about february in sobs and ink, While thunder booming in the background Is burning in the black of spring
close, but thats not it. im russian.
close, but thats not it. im russian.
ahhlina, if you have a better translation, why not provide it? the fact is, poetry is extremely difficult to translate, it is not only the meaning of the words but the sounds and mood and connotation that is important. douglas hofstadter in fact wrote a whole book about poetry translation, le ton beau de marot: in praise of the music of language. the two translations in the comments are evidently two different versions. the one from ladyfromabove looks as though it's taken more liberties with the original text in order to make the english translation more...
ahhlina, if you have a better translation, why not provide it? the fact is, poetry is extremely difficult to translate, it is not only the meaning of the words but the sounds and mood and connotation that is important. douglas hofstadter in fact wrote a whole book about poetry translation, le ton beau de marot: in praise of the music of language. the two translations in the comments are evidently two different versions. the one from ladyfromabove looks as though it's taken more liberties with the original text in order to make the english translation more poetic. both translations are in general agreement, the biggest divergence being between "thunder" and "slush".
Thank you, ahhlina. I'm a Russian speaker and it drives me crazy that the poem is almost always mistranslated. I mean, they add words and I appreciate the art of translation, jinxminx, it's just that they /add whole words that aren't even there in most translations./ That's a really big nono in my book. And I don't think people should jump down the throat of a native speaker who points out an incorrect translation.
Thank you, ahhlina. I'm a Russian speaker and it drives me crazy that the poem is almost always mistranslated. I mean, they add words and I appreciate the art of translation, jinxminx, it's just that they /add whole words that aren't even there in most translations./ That's a really big nono in my book. And I don't think people should jump down the throat of a native speaker who points out an incorrect translation.
This was written from the perspective of a statue. I think it's about King Louis XV. He was the one who famously said "Apres moi le deluge" which means "after me come the floods." He was hated by the French people and his reign seeded the resentment towards the monarchy that eventually led to the French Revolution.
"You can't break that which isn't yours." I think she's singing about tradition here.
"Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood Apres moi le deluge, after me come the floods" Sounds like a warning against the revolt.
P.S. Read Boris Pasternak's poem entitled 'February. Take your pen and weep,'.
Thanks for adding the russian sentences! :D They're really hard to find.
I have areally stong idea that this song is about a soldier. He's saying that he is fighting only to live because he knows he is no longer fighting for himself. He is fighting for those who own him. "You can't break that which isn't yours"
I have areally stong idea that this song is about a soldier. He's saying that he is fighting only to live because he knows he is no longer fighting for himself. He is fighting for those who own him. "You can't break that which isn't yours"
The second section, "be afraid of the lame..." I believe is about the different things that could kill him. Disease, Old age, the cold. Its very second world war, the russian sort of reiterates that.
The second section, "be afraid of the lame..." I believe is about the different things that could kill him. Disease, Old age, the cold. Its very second world war, the russian sort of reiterates that.
February. To get some ink and to cry To write about February and to sob violently( to weep stormily) While crashing slush Like black spring burns To get paletka( horse cab) for six grivnas (unit of currency and weight in medieval Russia) Through blagovest(ringing of church bells) through call of wheels To travel there, where heavy shower Which is even more noisy than ink and tears Where like pears that are charred From trees thousands of rooks Will break away into the puddles and will bring down dry sadness at the bottom of eyes Beneath it thawed patches are blackening And the wind is dug up with screams And the more...
February. To get some ink and to cry To write about February and to sob violently( to weep stormily) While crashing slush Like black spring burns To get paletka( horse cab) for six grivnas (unit of currency and weight in medieval Russia) Through blagovest(ringing of church bells) through call of wheels To travel there, where heavy shower Which is even more noisy than ink and tears Where like pears that are charred From trees thousands of rooks Will break away into the puddles and will bring down dry sadness at the bottom of eyes Beneath it thawed patches are blackening And the wind is dug up with screams And the more occasionally the more right The poetry is made up navzryd (navzryd it’s a Russian adverb which can be translated into english as” to sob violently” and answers the question How? That ‘s stylistic device-personification the poetry is made up (how?) navzryd as if the poetry is crying)
well actually there's no rhyme but i was trying to transmit the sense as I'm russian and it's easier for me that's the whole poem))) I've used the infinitive forms where the author uses them sometimes it's really difficult as some word which are adverbs can be translated only as a set expression in that case the idea of the author is lost((( but still i did my best)
well actually there's no rhyme but i was trying to transmit the sense as I'm russian and it's easier for me that's the whole poem))) I've used the infinitive forms where the author uses them sometimes it's really difficult as some word which are adverbs can be translated only as a set expression in that case the idea of the author is lost((( but still i did my best)