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L'Homme au Sac à Dos »

Couplet 1
Sur le quai du métro parisien,
Là où la lumière s'éteint, où plus rien ne retient,
Marche une silhouette qu'on parle tout bas,
Un vieux capuchon, un sac usé dans les bras.

Il vient, dit-on, des catacombes,
Des galeries que la ville a condamnées.
Le jour, il se fond dans la foule pressée,
La nuit, il traque ceux qu'on voudrait effacer.

Refrain
Ohh, l'homme au sac à dos,
Il marche où la nuit est trop dangereuse.
Ohh, l'homme au sac à dos,
Gardien des enfers, juge des choses.
Dans Paris qui dort d'un œil,
Il veille au bord du seuil.

Couplet 2
Clara rentrait, un soir comme tant d'autres,
Le wagon vide, un silence d'apôtre.
Au fond du métro, une silhouette penchée,
Un sac noirci par les années passées.

Station après station, la silhouette s'est rapprochée,
Sans un souffle, sans un bruit, comme un secret.
Elle est descendue sur un quai désert,
Mais derrière elle marchait déjà.

Refrain
Ohh, l'homme au sac à dos,
Il marche où la nuit est trop dangereuse.
Ohh, l'homme au sac à dos,
Gardien des enfers, juge des choses.
Dans Paris qui dort d'un œil,
Il veille au bord du seuil.

Pont
On dit qu'son visage porte la douleur du monde,
Mille cris étouffés à toutes les secondes.
Il n'attaque jamais celui qui ne mérite,
Il choisit, il pèse, il juge, puis il évite…

Couplet 3
Dans un parc, seul, sous un ciel sans étoile,
Il a posé son sac, ouvert le vieux voile.
Pas une arme, pas une lame, pas un débris,
Mais la mémoire de ceux qu'on n'écoute pas.

Clara comprit qu'elle était l'élue d'un soir,
Pour porter à son tour ce lourd devoir :
Raconter, témoigner, ne plus jamais se taire,
Des oubliés que dévore le silence amer.

Refrain final

Ohh, l'homme au sac à dos,
Il marche où la nuit est trop dangereuse.
Ohh, l'homme au sac à dos,
Gardien des enfers, juge des choses.
Dans Paris qui dort d'un œil,
Il veille…au bord du seuil.

Outro (parlé)
Et depuis ce soir-là, Clara raconte…
Car dans Paris, les ténèbres ne dorment jamais,
Et certains êtres veillent encore,
Là où la ville… préfère garder le secret.

Neary

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Musique
Transcription
00:08Hello everyone, listen carefully, I'm going to tell you an urban legend that haunts the corridors of the Paris metro,
00:18'man with the backpack.
00:19It is said that in the depths of Paris, where the metro corridors seem to swallow the light, something has been circulating since
00:28For a long time, it was the story of a man whom regulars on the last trains called the man with the backpack.
00:35According to several accounts, he is not simply a vagabond, but a kind of unsettling presence, almost a living legend.
00:45that some say they see appear at night.
00:48Rumor has it that this man comes from the catacombs. He always wears an old hood that conceals his face, thus
00:57than a worn, heavy backpack, which many describe as full of mysteries.
01:03During the day, he would go unnoticed in the crowd, taking on the appearance of an ordinary passerby. But at
01:11Once night fell, he would, it was said, begin hunting down those whom no one would miss: criminals, predators, and...
01:20violent beings that the city seems to have left on its margins.
01:24One story often resurfaces, that of a young woman named Clara. It was said that one evening, after her
01:31On a workday, she would have boarded an almost empty train.
01:35The atmosphere, it seems, was heavy, silent, oppressive. It was there, at the back of the carriage, that she supposedly noticed a
01:43man carrying a dirty and worn backpack.
01:46Several versions say that she immediately felt unwell, without being able to explain the reason.
01:53It is claimed that as the subway train moved from station to station, the man approached her.
02:00silently, like a shadow gliding in his direction.
02:04Overcome with fear, Clara reportedly rushed down to a deserted platform.
02:10But, according to the story, the man also got out of the train and followed him to
02:16distance.
02:17Those who report this story emphasize one point.
02:23This man would never attack randomly.
02:26He would judge. He would choose.
02:28Clara, for her part, initially believed she had become his next victim.
02:33Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned around and saw her in the pale light of a
02:40Neon sign, motionless, staring fixedly.
02:43It is said that she then began running through empty streets, certain that he
02:48always followed her.
02:50Some witnesses go even further.
02:52A survivor once claimed to have seen this man's face contort, as if all the suffering of
03:01The world was imprinted there.
03:02It is this image, terrible and inhuman, that is said to have fueled the fear surrounding his legend.
03:09The story goes that Clara eventually reached a park, alone, believing she could escape him.
03:17However, he would have reappeared before her.
03:20Instead of attacking her, he would have slowly opened her bag.
03:25But what it contained was neither a weapon nor an identifiable object.
03:30According to the account, it contained something else: traces of past pain, stifled cries, memories of countless
03:39Forgotten victims.
03:40It was at that moment, it is said, that Clara understood that he had not come for the
03:46kill.
03:46He wanted to show her what the night hides, to convey to her what so many others refuse to see.
03:54She would thus have become, against her will, the custodian of this obscure memory, charged in turn with recounting what she
04:02had seen.
04:04Then the man with the backpack would have disappeared into the shadows, as suddenly as he had come.
04:09And ever since, those who report this story always conclude in the same way.
04:14In Paris, darkness never sleeps, and some beings still keep watch in the margins, where the city prefers
04:22keep it a secret.
04:23Next story: beyond appearances.
04:40On the platform of the Paris metro, where the light goes out, where nothing holds you back anymore.
04:47A figure walks by, people speak in hushed tones, an old hood in his arms, ready to accuse himself.
04:53It is said to come from the catacombs, galleries that the city has sealed off.
05:00By day, they blend into the bustling crowd; by night, they hunt down what we would like to erase.
05:09Oh, the man with the backpack, he's walking in the night, too dangerous.
05:16Oh, the man with the backpack, guardian of hell, judge of all things.
05:22In Paris, which sleeps with one eye open, they keep watch at the edge of the threshold.
05:34Clara returned home one evening like so many others, the train car empty, an apostolic silence.
05:41At the back of the subway, a stooped figure, a bag blackened by years of wear.
05:47Station after station, the figure clung on.
05:50Without a breath, without a sound, as if keeping a secret, she stepped down onto a deserted platform.
05:58But behind her, someone was already walking.
06:02Oh, the man with the backpack, he's walking in the night, too dangerous.
06:09Oh, the man with the backpack, guardian of hell, judge of all things.
06:16In Paris, which sleeps with one eye open, they keep watch at the edge of the threshold.
06:25They say his face bears the pain of the world, he cries out muffled every second.
06:32He never attacks those who don't deserve it.
06:35He chooses, he weighs, he judges, then he avoids.
06:39In a solitary park, under a starless sky, he put down his bag and opened the old veil.
06:46Not a weapon, not a blade, not a piece of debris, but the memory of those who are not listened to.
06:53Clara understood that she was the chosen one for the evening to bear in turn this heavy duty that had been recounted.
07:00To bear witness, never to remain silent again, to unforget what bitter silence devours.
07:07Oh, the man with the backpack, he's walking in the dark and it's too dangerous.
07:13Oh, the man with the backpack, guardian of hell, judge of all things.
07:21In Paris, which sleeps with one eye open, they keep watch at the edge of the threshold.
07:42And since that night, Clara tells
07:47For in Paris, darkness never sleeps
07:51And some beings are still watching
07:55Where the city
07:59Prefers to keep it a secret
08:05permit to make a husband for life
08:06The secret
08:06...
08:06French subtitles?
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