Below is my poetic translation of ‘Les Bigotes’ by Jacques Brel. Particular attention has been paid to keeping the rhyme and flow of the piece while retaining the poetic origins of the French lyric.
Lyrics
They grow old in little steps
They turn from lions into little pets
The Bigoted
And they age even faster
Confusing love with holy water
Like all the bigoted
If I was the devil watching them
I think I’d have myself castrated
If I was god hearing them pray
I think I’d lose my faith
Because they’re bigoted
They progess in little steps
As they confess, and they confess
The bigoted
The gossip and they bitch
Until my ears begin to hiss
The bigoted
They dress in black just like the priest
Who’s too friendly with the bad kids
They’re bigots with lowered eyes
And they think that god hides behind the lids
Of the Bigoted
On weekday nights after work
We see the labourers return
But not the bigoted
Because they’re deep down inside their homes
Trying not to have fun
The bigoted
Yes they prefer to shrivel up
From church to church, to mass to mass
And they’re totally proud to keep their diamond up their ass
The bigoted
And they die in little steps
And slowly pile up into little heaps
The bigoted
And we carry then to the graveyard
In the early morning cold
The bigoted
And in the heavens that don’t exist
The angels create a paradise
And with a halo, and two small
In tiny steps they fly
The bigoted
Collecting Brel 
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