Le Portugais [English translation]

With his jackhammer, he drills the furrows

Of tomorrow's road

He puts his heart into it, the sun and the frost

Are written all over his hands

The Portuguese man, under his red oilskin,

Looks like a scarecrow

Have you seen the odd ploughman

Of the concrete meadows

And the rockery fields?

You have to go on many journeys

You have to go a long way

It is not in your own village

That you can earn your living anymore

Far away from his home, far away from his town,

500 miles to the north,

At night, in a shantytown,

The Portuguese man falls asleep

He came into the Austerlitz railroad station,

It has already been two years since

He has but one thing in mind, earning a lot of money

And going back there

The Portuguese man, under his red oilskin,

Looks like a scarecrow

He does not hear you,

He is on the road

Leading back to Portugal

You have to go on many journeys

You have to go a long way

It is not in your own village

That you can earn your living anymore

Far away from his home, far away from his town,

500 miles to the north,

At night, in a shantytown,

The Portuguese man falls asleep

La la la la la...