La Collectionneuse
Charlotte Gainsbourg Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
And keep them all close to me
To the ceiling from the floor
I'm tripping on them constantly
Pixelated faces play
On the blown out TV screen
Footage from a camera,
These days I'm fast-forwarding
I see a pattern start to form
Over time it's surfacing
Like a face I recognize
It never says anything
I add up all these moments
In a long narrow ledger
Decimals of pain
Integers of pleasure
The sum of all these parts
I don't know how to measure
They keep on adding up
They just keep on adding up
The collector, la collectioneuse
The collector, la collectioneuse
The collector, la collectioneuse
The collector, la collectioneuse
J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyere
L'automne est morte souviens-t'en
Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre
Odeur du temps brin de bruyere
Et souviens-toi que je t'attends
J'ai eu le courage de regarder en arriere
Les cadavres de mes jours
Que lentement passent les heures
Comme passe un enterrement
Tu pleureras l'heure ou tu pleures
Qui passera trop vitement
Comme passe toutes les heures.
Et toi mon coeur pourquoi bats-tu?
Comme un guetteur melancolique
J'observe la nuit et la mort
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
In Charlotte Gainsbourg's song La Collectionneuse, she describes herself as the collector or "la collectionneuse" in French. She mentions that she collects many things, which are close to her and surround her from the ceiling to the floor. She's also tripping on them constantly, suggesting that her surroundings are overwhelming and chaotic. She mentions pixelated faces on a blown-out TV screen, which she fast-forwards through, further emphasizing her disinterest in her surroundings. However, she recognizes a pattern forming in her collections, which is surfacing over time. It reminds her of a familiar face that never says anything.
Charlotte Gainsbourg mentions that she adds up all the moments of her life in a long narrow ledger, where she records decimals of pain and integers of pleasure. However, she acknowledges that the sum of all these moments is difficult to measure. The lyrics are in French and English, and she adds a verse in French that says, "J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyere, L'automne est morte souviens-t'en, Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre, Odeur du temps brin de bruyere, Et souviens-toi que je t'attends," which means "I picked this sprig of heather, Autumn is dead, remember, We won't meet again on earth, The smell of time, sprig of heather, And remember that I'm waiting for you." The song ends with Charlotte Gainsbourg wondering why her heart beats as she observes the night and death as a melancholic watcher.
Line by Line Meaning
I collect many things
I have a habit of gathering various things
And keep them all close to me
I cherish and hold on to everything I have collected
To the ceiling from the floor
My collection ranges from the top of the room to the bottom
I'm tripping on them constantly
I am constantly stumbling over my large collection
Pixelated faces play
I watch low-quality images of people
On the blown out TV screen
On a poor quality, malfunctioning screen
Footage from a camera,
Recordings from a camera
These days I'm fast-forwarding
Recently I've been skipping over the footage
I see a pattern start to form
I can see a recurring theme emerging
Over time it's surfacing
As time goes on, it has become more evident
Like a face I recognize
Similar to a face I know well
It never says anything
It doesn't speak or communicate in any way
I add up all these moments
I am reflecting on all these occurrences
In a long narrow ledger
In a book where I record everything
Decimals of pain
Small amounts of pain
Integers of pleasure
Larger amounts of pleasure
The sum of all these parts
The total of everything I've collected and experienced
I don't know how to measure
I cannot quantify or measure it in any way
They keep on adding up
These things keep accumulating
They just keep on adding up
And they continue to add up
The collector, la collectioneuse
I am a collector
J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyere
I picked this sprig of heather
L'automne est morte souviens-t'en
Remember, autumn died
Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre
We will not see each other on this earth again
Odeur du temps brin de bruyere
Smell of time, sprig of heather
Et souviens-toi que je t'attends
And remember that I am waiting for you
J'ai eu le courage de regarder en arriere
I had the courage to look back
Les cadavres de mes jours
The remnants of my past days
Que lentement passent les heures
How slowly the hours pass
Comme passe un enterrement
Like a funeral procession
Tu pleureras l'heure ou tu pleures
You will grieve for the moment you are currently grieving for
Qui passera trop vitement
That will pass too quickly
Comme passe toutes les heures.
Like all hours do
Et toi mon coeur pourquoi bats-tu?
And you, my heart, why do you beat?
Comme un guetteur melancolique
Like a melancholic watchman
J'observe la nuit et la mort
I observe the night and death
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
May the night come and the hour strike
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
The days pass, but I remain
Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS
Written by: BECK HANSEN, GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@ericjourdain892
Apollinaire... Quelle merveille.
@gergsar
thanks for posting
@jeremygauer7883
😀 👍👍
@ThaoABCcuocsongPhap
charlotte gainsbourg
@gloriamaria7032
eu me sinto numa transa maçante e instigante muito sexy
@LendallPitts
"This video requires payment to watch." Not a great way to get people to buy your music.