All language subtitles for La clé des champs (2011)

I was a taciturn, dreamy child,

doing my best to get
a leash on life.

This life I'd been given

and I didn't know what to do with.

That spring, my parents had sent
to my county cousins.

I was the only child and I had
to fill up the long, monotonous days.

All around me
life was bursting forth.

Even the gnats
seemed to know their business.

Swallows shot through the sky
like arrows.

Snails traced their shimmering way
through the grass.

But my own feet seemed aimless.

I'd always enjoyed
watching animals.

They bade me to live as I pleased,

to forget the passing time
and make the most of each moment.

With them, words were useless
and that suited me,

not being one to open my mouth
even at home.

All animals fear humans.

I shared the same fear.

It united us
in a sort of secret alliance.

With them, I left behind
the enigmatic adult world.

I'd devise games to pass the time.

I'd spend hours in the farmyard
watching feathers float in the sunlight,

or, in the field
behind my cousins' farm,

the feathery seeds of goats beard,

like interstellar tall ships
sailing through space,

as in my sci-fi comic books.

All that flew took me
far from this pale world

beyond the clouds.

One day, one of these "space ships" led
me out to a pond outside the village.

Idle Pond was named after the tiny
stream that supplied it with water.

They say that long ago
a goat had drowned here.

Farmers wouldn't water
their cattle here.

This wild, abandoned spot became
the setting of all my daydreams.

It lured me, yet scared me
because of the goat

whose body lay
at the bottom of the murky waters.

I came back, day after day,
like a moth hovering around a lamp,

fascinated by this fragile pool,

an island lost
in an ocean of dry land.

The water's wavy mirror sent back
unsure images of the world around me

which I tried to decipher.
An upside down, floating, blurred world

of shifting reflections.

Fish between two waters seemed
to fly through the clouds,

slip among the branches.

For the solitary child I was,
the theater of still waters

was the vey stuff of dreams.

One day, in my pocket,
I found the gift

my fabric merchant uncle
had given me for my birthday

A small one with two superposed lenses
bulging like a frog's eyes.

I found the pond to be

the ideal place to exercise
the talisman's power,

a talisman that dispelled boredom

and drew out treasures
wherever its power was turned.

My uncle used it
to gauge a fabric's fineness.

And me, I used it to discover whole
planets in a drop of water.

I called it my "Indian eye."

With it I could see
what others couldn't imagine,

all the minuscule signs
hidden within things.

My kingdom wasn't so big,

yet I couldn't begin to imagine
its population.

I didn't even know what some
of its inhabitants looked like.

When I looked at it carefully,

it seemed vast to me and I began
to give names to its various regions.

There was Tadpole Beach,

Floating Buttercup Gardens,

the Sunken Forest,

the Sargasso Sea
with its tangled gulfweed,

and in the middle, the depths of
the abyss, dark as the deep woods,

where the little goat had foundered
in the shifting silt.

On one bank lay

the blue-green land of irises, whose
pointed leaves crossed like swords.

Their tips swelled with huge buds.

I imagined the golden flowers that
would soon crown them like princes.

I loved the cloying odor
of warm mud

that told me the pond was near.

One stifling hot day,

when the air didn't stir,
and no refreshing puff of wind blew,

I noticed that the water
was never still.

Something moved
across the magic mirror of water.

Tiny creatures...

Yes, the bugs made the pond's skin
constantly quiver

like a horse's skin tickled by flies.

The pond exuded
a fathomless beauty.

What unfolded before my eyes
in this abandoned spot

was like a reflection
of the entire universe.

I was witness to a ceremonial that
seemed to obey an eternal protocol.

I loved the beauty and the violence,
the harmony and the chaos.

I didn't know the names
of most of the creatures I saw.

They looked like little deities, so perfect
were their colors and gestures.

No doubt I had a place
in this dizzying roundelay,

but for now I was content to sit and
watch, like a wallflower at a dance.

The same day offered me
wonders and tragedy.

There were the devourers,
the devoured,

but no good guys or villains.
Just creatures obeying their nature,

simply going with the flow of life.

I could have saved some of them,
but the thought didn't occur to me.

I feel at ease in this place
forgotten by man.

This place from which
he can derive no profit.

People don't like wilderness.

It is useless to them. Worthless.

The pond is a secret spot,

an unknown land,
like those uncharted territories

left blank on world maps of old.

Here everything remains possible.

Today I told my cousins
about my aquatic paradise,

showing them the treasures

I'd gleaned.

Throw that rubbish
on the dung heap!

Wait till your mother

sees your torn pockets!

You like animals?
Leave that vermin alone.

Go see the cows in the field!

Someone has been here.
My sanctuary has been desecrated.

Someone walked on the bank,
trampled the mint

and picked the irises.

I love this spot.
I can't bear someone wrecking it.

I can't look at the grasses
along the bank now.

But below the surface,

everything is still untouched.
No one could get there.

That is where I want to dream.

A little girl lives in this house.
Her family rented it for a few weeks.

They keep to themselves.

Now I know who stole my irises.

She must've followed me in secret
and found the path to the pond.

Anyhow,

I don't need
some girl underfoot out there.

One day there happened
by the young king of England

Heydee-ho, dilly dingadong

One day there happened by
the young king of England

With one stroke of his sword
the damsel he did slay

Heydee-ho, dilly dingadong

With one stroke of his sword
the damsel he did slay

Where shall we lay to rest
the beautiful princess

Heydee-ho, dilly dingadong

Where shall we lay to rest
the beautiful princess

Under the lilac bush in her father's
garden Heydee-ho, dilly dingadong

Under the lilac bush
in her father's garden

She came back,
but touched nothing.

However,
she left her crown in the grass.

I named her Iris,
in memory of the flowers she took.

Now, when I reach the pond,

I wonder if deep down
I'm not looking for signs of Iris.

But today, nothing.

Nothing but the still water,

and amid the weeds,
the dance of the crested newts.

"EARTH"

"HEAVEN"

"POND"

I didn't notice them right off.

I'm sure Iris crafted these dolls.

I like them.

But I prefer my pond
as it was before.

Iris. She's stopped coming.

She probably didn't like
my removing her dolls.

Or else she got tired
of coming here.

It's just me and the pond now.

The initial enchantment is gone.

I spent a fitful night.

Maybe some fever after the hours
out in the sun, not moving,

studying every detail of the pond,

as if to etch it forever
on my memory.

My cousins told me about
a village eccentric

who worked when he pleased.

A hardened bachelor. He knows
a lot about nature and wildlife.

So you like critters?
At least you'll never be bored.

When you watch them unawares,

time stops

and you forget to breathe.

But the thing is,

people don't like others
roaming around the fields.

They think you're trouble.

I've known Idle Pond
since I was a kid.

I know that there's a carp in there

this big,

that's older than me

"The Centenarian " I call it.

It darts off under old stumps
as soon as it hears footsteps.

I'm sure it's still there,
and there to stay!

I so hoped to see Iris again
by the water.

But it's a grey day.

I doubt she'll come today.

My eyes are tired of looking for her.

My gaze strays across the deep,
cold waters, into the realm of shadows

that hides things I've never seen.

I long thought that lending my pond
was a most generous gift,

and I hadn't dared respond
to Iris's offerings.

She freely decorated my kingdom
with her inventions.

I must give her something.

I decided to give her
my Indian eye.

This morning I rose with the sun
and ran to the pond.

It's the first time
without my Indian eye.

Maybe giving away my talisman
has blinded me.

It's a beautiful day. Hundreds of
strands of gossamer fly by.

Time seems to stand still.

That day, I experienced
the exhilaration of feeling alive,

of sharing that gift
with the plants and animals.

The morning light poured over me
like a beneficial rain.

I seemed to be coming to life
after a long slumber.

The pond had become
my homeland.

Here I'd found the place
that suited me best,

that spoke a language
I could understand.

Later that glorious day,

forgetting the shyness
that paralyzed me,

I decided, since vacation was ending,
to bring Iris another gift.

"CARP"
"LENS"

Iris had left with our secret.

All I knew of her
was the name I'd invented.

We'd hardly seen each other.

But nothing in me was the same.

From that point on,

I knew I wasn't destined
to be lonely.

That my way of seeing
and feeling things

could be shared by others.

Even today, when I smell
the scent of damp earth,

the memory returns of those intense
hours spent beside the still water.

Water that had awakened me
to the world, to wildlife

and that other self I recognized
in the girl in the poppy-red dress.