Les Chateaux de Sable [English translation]

Of the small war I sing,

of the brave children of not long ago

who fought on the beach

to save a sand castle

and its impassible bulwarks

which one wave was going to sweep away.

I was one of them: weapon in a sling,

carefully hidden in the citadel

we were waiting for

a Saracen troop

coming from the neighbouring coast

to attack our fortress.

A hundred yards away on the dune,

waiting for the fortunes

of war to smile on the victors,

waiting to be courted,

our pledged ones, our betrothed,

softly readied their hearts.

Suddenly the wild Armada

broke out onto our shore

with it's lances, its shields,

to commit forceful plundering

and even to steal away our Sabines,

more beautiful that theirs, indeed.

The battle was worthy of Homer,

and the defeat very bitter

for the foe, even though numerous,

whom we beat to a pulp,

who departed in total collapse,

routed and running for safety.

Yes, that horde of barbarians

that our fury tears to pieces

retreated with its ships,

taking hardly anything at all

as trophies, only two burst balls,

three rackets, and four hoops.

After the famous victory,

singing the tunes of "Sambre et Meuse"1

and of the Marseillaise, ho hum2,

we ran for the recompense

that the fair sex dishes out

to worn out little heroes.

While, quite softly, into the ears

of our Fannys and our Mireilles

we were telling our saga,

slipping the ring onto their finger,

a sort of wave rose up

which no-one noticed.

Besides it was only a

wave with no significant amplitide,

a wavelet that had got lost,

but when it reached the sea shore

it caused more destruction,

more damage, than a tsunami.

Very quickly the treachorous wave

moved into our fortress,

overturning it, destroying it.

Farewll Keep, Towers, and Battlements

which just four insignificant drops

had eliminated in passing.

Some time after that we went,

along with grown men, to take part

in other more deceptive battles

where the castles are more in the air

and of sand than before.

When I see soldiers in the prime of life

fighting on the beach

I don't discourage them

although having not long ago

myself fought that war I already

know the inevitable end to the battle.

I know that in spite of their defenses

their story is doomed in advance,

but I leave them to fight

to save a castle of sand

and its unbreachable walls that

one wave is going to sweep away.

1. patriotic song about the French revolutionary army in Flanders in 17942. "ô gué" doesn't now appear to mean anything other than a few syllables to separate bits of discourse. It's sometimes suggested that it originated as "oh gai"(meaning "oh, gay" = but an older version of "gay" than today's common usage of the English word), but I haven't a clue whether that is true or not