The Jay Street Jam

The Lost Knowledge Of Tartaria,

The image shows a slightly altered photo detail from: Tree Stump, Meanwood Churchyard, a photography by Tim Green from Bradford (Wikimedia commons)

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"They all go stupid in a race."
(Gustave Flaubert, 1821-1880)

The following text passage is mainly a translation from a blog by the author Goetz Eisenberg (*1951) called:
https://durchhalteprosa.de/ 
(which can best be translated as „Perseverance Prose“)

In the translation I have tried to stay as close as possible to the original text, however, due to phrasing, composition (etc…), I have used slight changes and additions.
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Desensitization

Apocalyptic images 
Every evening on the news 
Heat, fires and disease
Floods, earthquakes, famines, 
War and destruction…
We are given such a daily dose 
Of horror news 
That we loose 
The capacity for outrage and revolt. 
We become numb 
And also threaten to loose 
The abilities we need 
To have empathy. 

(ref1)
Then, as now,  	(2)
We should cry out 
And rise up collectively, 
But the mass of images 
And the flood of news 
Make us fall silent
And paralyse the hooves

All go crazy in a race …

The more drastic the images 
We are presented with, 
The faster we forget 
What we have seen. 
The abundance and above all 
The concreteness of the images
Is the best means 
Of making us immune
To others misfortune. 
This is a facet of the "dialectic of enlightenment" 
That is far too little considered:
The more clearly 
Barbarism can be seen, 
The faster 
We forget it. 
News had a greater impact on us 
When we only heard or read it. 
The images of it arose 
In our minds 
And then occupied us more than one time

All go crazy in a race …

(ref2)
Then, as now,  	(2)
We should cry out 
And rise up collectively, 
But the mass of images 
And the flood of news 
Simply fob us off
With the surface

All go crazy in a race 
They all go stupid in a race	(2)
and we float along with it…

Desensitization

Une ode aux perdants , à ceux qui n'arriveront jamais les premiers ...
Compositeur - Musique : Philippe SEGUINARD
Auteur mélodiste - Chant : Guillaume DULER
Chant : Sylvie TIRET
An ode to the losers, to those who will never get there first ...
Composer - Music : Philippe SEGUINARD
Songwriter - Vocals : Guillaume DULER
Singer : Sylvie TIRET
Lyrics:
Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos étoiles
Même si le ciel est déjà mort
C'est vrai qu'elles brillent encore
Mais la plupart ont mis les voiles

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos défaites
A la puissance des vaincus
Nous nos blessures ont survécus
Quand leurs victoires sont obsolètes

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos amours
A celles qui saôulent de souvenirs
Celles qu'on n'a pas pu retenir
Mais auxquelles on pense toujours

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos héros
Aux révoltés aux cœurs ouverts
Ceux qu'ont joué avec l'enfer
La vie tatouée sur la peau

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos succés
Ces étranges malentendus
C'est à peine ce qu'on a voulu
Et tout juste ce que l'on pouvait

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos enfances
Illusions perdues à jamais
Comme la douleur d'un condamné
Qui sait qu'il va mourir d'avance

Levons nos verres aux regrets
Aux perdants de la gloire
Cicatrices laissées
Dans un coin de mémoire
Aux survivants sans médailles
A nous les moins que rien
Sur nos champs de batailles
Ombres du quotidien

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos fantômes
Toutes ces peurs qui nous soutiennent
Main dans la main elles nous souviennent
Vers la dernière demeure des hommes

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos futurs
Retournons nous voir s'ils nous suivent
Mais y'a personne pas âme qui vive
Y'a même pas de rats sur les ordures

When do we drink to our stars
Even if the sky is already dead
It's true they still shine
But most of them are gone

When do we drink to our defeats
To the power of the defeated
Our wounds have survived
When their victories are obsolete

When do we drink to our loves
To those soaked in memories
The ones we couldn't hold back
But still think of

When we drink to our heroes
To the rebels with open hearts
Those who played with hell
Life tattooed on their skin

When we drink to our successes
These strange misunderstandings
It's hardly what we wanted
And only what we could

When we drink to our childhoods
Illusions lost forever
Like the pain of a condemned man
Who knows he's going to die in advance

Let's raise a glass to regrets
To the losers of glory
Scars left
In a corner of memory
To survivors without medals
To us less than nothing
On our battlefields
Shadows of everyday life

When we drink to our ghosts
All these fears that sustain us
Hand in hand they remind us
To the last resting place of men

When we drink to our futures
Let's go back and see if they follow us
But there's no one, no soul
Not even rats in the garbage

© Philippe SEGUINARD/Guillaume DULER  Novembre 2023

Ivre"S" (feat Sylvie Tiret) Version intégrale TRANSLATED

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