Sing, boatman, your burden
will be lighter if it's beautiful.
Through the forest, your stray lament
always precedes you.
Be on your way, boatman,
as soon as the day broke,
and without rest, awaiting evening,
sing your hope, boatman.
Watch out, your boat
is skimming the water,
laden with gold
and rocked by these treasures.
And while you marvel
at a beam of sunlight,
my friend, you don't see
the treasures that fill your dugout.
If your master could1,
he would give you half of it.
You wouldn't keep
rowing all your life
rowing all your life
rowing all your life
Sing, boatman, your burden
will be lighter if it's beautiful.
Through the forest, your stray lament
always precedes you.
Be on your way, boatman,
as soon as the day broke,
and without rest, awaiting evening,
sing, boatman. Oh oh oh...
1. The song dates back from French colonial era. History seems to have proved the masters needed somewhat stronger incentives than common decency to share their treasures!