Lullaby of Deserted Hell is a waltz which is sure to stick to the mind of Touhou fans. The slightly cloudy, majestic and mysterious piano played by Onne inspired a specific painting in our mind, an alternate universe with a little girl with red hair, trapped in a cold Renaissance castle and bound by etiquette day and night, prevented from revealing her real nature… Docile like a cat with dormant fury inside; beware this seemingly harmless feline, and in the meantime, listen to the lullaby of her melancholy.
Download Raven’s Jig – Petit Chat Clandestin (on-vocal)
Lyrics:
Petite enfant du grand monde, petit chat clandestin
Qui pourrait tout entendre mais qui n’écoute rien
Sa poupée dans ses bras et le cœur sur la main
Elle s’évade et elle rêve à son propre destin
Depuis qu’elle a su marcher, toujours on lui a dit
Tête haute, profil bas, fais cela, fais ceci
Elle acquiesce, elle est sage
Mais au fond, ces adages
N’ont jamais terni son vrai visage
Son âme est une tempête bouillant au fond d’elle
Ses yeux couleur automne saluent les hirondelles
Avant que l’hiver arrive elle part avec elles
Elle leur mord la queue, les rattrape à tire d’aile
Son sourire ouvre le feu comme pour se venger
Les boucles de ses cheveux soudain ont changé
L’envie de liberté semble la démanger
Tel un monstre insensé, toujours emprisonné
Car sous les poils de la brosse qui lisse sa fourrure
Sous le regard sévère des plafonds à moulures
Son monde est un miroir, impartial éteignoir
De la flamme qui brûle en son regard
Le long des couloirs glacés, au détour des rideaux
Elle connaît ses idées, mais leur tourne le dos
C’est leur lot à jamais, un éternel secret
Inutile, un facteur imparfait
Petite enfant du grand monde, petit chat clandestin
Qui pourrait tout voir mais qui ne regarde rien
Sa poupée dans ses bras et le cœur sur la main
Elle s’évade et dessert ses propres desseins
Elle obéit à la main qui lui donne à manger
Elle a tout su comprendre et elle sait s’adapter
Elle se sert du silence qui fait son élégance
Pour nourrir ses démons, sa démence
Et valider son inexistence
English:
Little child of the higher world, clandestine little cat
Who could hear everything but listens to nothing
With her doll in her arms and her heart on her sleeve
She escapes and dreams of her own destiny
Since she was able to walk, she has always been told
Keep your chin up but keep a low profile, do that, do this
She nods, she is well-behaved
But deep down, such sayings
Never tarnished her real self
Her soul is a storm boiling inside of her
Her autumn-colored eyes greet the swallows
Before winter comes, she leaves with them
Biting their tails, chasing them flip-flapping
Her smile opens fire as if to get revenge
The locks of her hair suddenly have changed
The urge for freedom seems to be getting to her
Like an insane monster, always imprisoned
Because under the brush straightening her fur
Under the strict gaze of the ceiling’s moldings
Her world is a mirror, an unbiased snuffer
For the flame burning in her stare
Along the ice-cold corridors, behind curtains
She knows what her thoughts are but she turns her back on them
That is how they will always be treated, an eternal secret
A useless, imperfect factor
Little child of the higher world, clandestine little cat
Who could see everything but looks at nothing
With her doll in her arms and her heart on her sleeve
She escapes and serves her own projects
She obeys to the hand who feeds her
She understood everything and knows how to adapt
She uses her silence, symbol of her poise
To feed her demons, her dementia
And validate the fact that she doesn’t exist