Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Serge Reggiani - The old couple

Original Title: "Le vieux couple"
Text: Jean-Loup Dabadie.
Music: Jacques Datin
What I like about this duo
It's that you make the higher voice
It's you who knows, you who says
You who think and I who is
But on the big evenings when you are crying
When you are afraid in your rowing boat
I am the one talking for hours
All in all we are an old couple

I don't remember where I have met you anymore
It was at school or at a puppet show
I remember that ingenuous person
Who had lost his compass
Since I stopped you from drinking
Except the big evenings in your rowing boat
When you sing to me about your setbacks
All in all we are an old couple

With your spaniel face
Which did not learn how to swim
With my face to remain alone
Behind half shandy's
The big evenings in your rowing boat
When we talk about your moods
And that you slander my wife
All in all we are an old couple

The sixteenth August Nineteen sixty
I married that lovely lady
Five days later, I was gone
And you were tucking me in my bed
Then the night started
Then the night started
Of which we believed we were the stars
But we were nothing more than the cicadas

We fought, we lost one another
You often started new relationships
And the best is that you betrayed me
But you held no grudge against me
And during the big evenings in your rowing boats
You know my habits well
I know your solitude well
All in all we are an old couple

My friend, my buddy, my brother
My old chance, my galley
My child, my Judas, my judge
My comfortance, my shelter
My brother, my counterfeiter
My friend, my jack of heart
I wouldn't want you to die
I wouldn't want you to die.

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Léo Ferré - Arthur Rimbaud - We are not serious when we are 17 years old

Original Title: "On est pas sérieux quand on a 17 ans"
Text: Arthud Rimbaud
We are not serious when we are seventeen years old
- A fine evening, to hell with the ales and the limonades
Of the rowdy cafés with bright chandeliers
- We go under the green lime trees of the promenade

The lime trees smell good in the fine evenings of June!
The air is sometimes so sweet that we close our eyelids;
The wind loaded with noises - the city is not far -
Has some scent of vines and smells of beer

Here we catch a very small piece of rag
of dark sky, framed by a very small branch
Stung of a bad star, which merges
with sweet shivers, small and all white...

Night of June! Seventeen years old! We let ourselves get intoxicated
The sap is like champaign and goes to the head
We ramble, we feel a kiss to the lips
Beating there, like a small beast

The crazy heart robinsons through the novels
When in the pale light of a streetlamp
A damzel passes with charming airs
Under the shadow of the detachable collar of her father

And as she thinks you are immensely naive
While she trots about in her small ankle boots
She turns around, agile and with a lively gesture
On your lips then dies the cavatina

You are in love. Praised until the month of August.
You are in love. Your sonnets makes her laugh
All your friends go away, you are of unpleasant taste
Then the adored one, one evening, deigned writing you!

That evening - You enter inside the loud cafés
You ask for ale or limonade
We are not serious when we are seventeen years old
And we have green lime trees on the promenade

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Mouloudji - We have to live

Original Title: "Faut vivre"
Despite the big eyes of the void
"It's to better eat you, child"
And the silences, and the rackets
We have to live...

Despite being blind on background of night
Between the infinite depths
Billions of stars laughing...
We have to live...

Despite not always being beautiful
And that we do not have our sixteen anymore
And on hope a blank check
We have to live...

Despite the heart being at sea
To the wind of love which is still blowing
And which sometimes still intoxicates us
We have to live...

Despite us not being a genius
Is not Rimbaud who can, for god's sake
And that we look for an alibi

Despite all our dead people making merry
Who wander in the streets of our heads
We have to live...

Despite us being brave and bastards
that we have complexes galore
And that we like them, that's the worst
We have to live

Despite the ideal of youth
Which has been worn out to the nerve of the time
And by others taken back while singing
We have to live....

Despite that when we turn toward the past
We are scared to admit to ourselves
That we have changed a little still
We have to live...

Despite us being on the same journey
Be it we live as mad, we live as wise
Everything will end in a wreck
We have to live...

Despite at the sky of our chests
Inside of us, asleep sentry
In a noise of factory, moans

The blind heart which walks a tightrope
On the thread of the running present
We have to live....

Despite that inside of us a dead child
Sometimes, so little, still smiles
Like an old agonising dream
We have to live...

Despite us being in the gears
of the clerks and the inheritances
Where the heart makes itself nauseus and gets bogged down
We have to live...

Despite us making dark humor
about love which will give us an hard time
Up to the moment it tells us goodbye
We have to live...

Despite that, at every horizon
Like an intergation point,
Death looks at us with a drunken eye
We have to live...

Despite all our love oaths
All our lies day after day
And despite we only have one life
A single one for eternity
Despite us knowing it's a failure

We have to live...

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Léo Ferré - Paul Verlaine - Poetic art

Original Title: "Art poétique"
Text: Paul Verlaine
Music before anything else
And for that prefers the irregular verse
More vague and more soluble in air
Without anything in it which weights or poses

You must not either
Choose your words without some misunderstanding
Nothing is dearest than the grey song
Where the indecisive joins the precise

It's beautiful eyes behind veils
It's the bright day shivering at noon
It's, through an autumn sky cooled down,
The blue jumble of the clear stars!

Because we want the Shade again
Not the color, just the shade!
Oh the shade only marries
The dream to the dream and the flute to the horn!

Run the farthest away from the murderous point
The cruel spirit, and the impure laugh
Which make the eyes of the Azure cry,
And all that garlic of low kitchen!

Take the eloquence and break its neck!
You will do well, in energetic spirit,
To give back the tempered rhyme
If we do not pay attention, up to where will it go?

Oh who will say the wrongs of the Rhyme?
Which death child or crazy negro
Has forged us that one penny jewel
Which sounds hollow and fake under the file?

Some music still and always!
Let your verse be the flown away thing
That we feel flees from a departed soul
Toward other skies and other loves

Let your verse be the good adventure
Scattered to the tense wind of the morningv Which goes smelling of mind and thyme...
And everything else is literature.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Jacques Brel - To see a friend cry

Original Title: "Voir un ami pleurer"
Of course there are the Irish wars
And the tribes without music
Of course all that lack of tender
And there is no America anymore
Of course money does not have a smell
But no smell goes up to your nose
Of course we walk over flowers
But, but to see a friend cry

Of course there are our defeats
And then death which is at all at the end
Our bodies already tilt the head
Surprised to still be standing
Of course, the unfaithful women
And the murdered birds
Of course, our hearts lose their wings
But, but to see a friend cry

Of course those exhausted cities
By those fifty year old children
Our powerlessness to help them
And our loves that have toothaches
Of course, the time which is going too fast
Those subways filled with drowned people
The truth which is avoiding us
But, but to see a friend cry

Of course, our mirrors are upright
Nor the courage to be a jew
Nor the elegance to be a negro
We think ourselves wick but are nothing but tallow
And all those men who are our brothers
So much that we are not surprised anymore
That, out of love, they lacerate us
But, but to see a friend cry

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Léo Ferré - Paul Verlaine - Moonlight

Original Title: "Clair de lune"
Text: Paul Verlaine
Your soul is a chosen landscape
Where goes charming Masques et Bergamasques*
Playing some luth and dancing and almost
Sad under their weird disguise

While singing on the minor mode
The victorious love and the opportune life
It does not seem like they believe in their happiness
And their song mixes with the moonlight

Under the clam moonlight, sad and beautiful,
Which makes the birds dream in the trees
And sobbing of extasy the water jets

The big water jets svelt among the trees

*Opera by G. Fauré

Other version:

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Frehel - Tender song

Original Title: "Chanson tendre"
Text: Francis Carco
At the memory of our twenties
By this fine morning of spring
I wanted to see again all over there
The inn in the middle of the lilacs
We were hearing in the branches
The birds were singing Sunday
And your chaste white dress
Seemed to be guiding my steps

Everything looked at its place
Even your name in the ice
Up to your place where fades
No matter what we do
All trace.
And almost believed I was hearing
You tender voice whisper
“Come closer”

I was moved like in the past
In that inn in the deep of the woods
I had tears in the eyes
And I was finding that wonderful
For the whole day,
In your abandonned bedroom
After so many years
I saw us both again

But nothing was at his place
I remained, head lowered,
To pucker at myself in the mirror
Face to face
Finally I pushed the door
What do I care
It's over.

Yet when the evening came down
I went alone to sit down
On the worm-eaten bench
where you never came back
You looked to me more beautiful
More charming, more cruel
Than any of all those
For whom my heart has beaten

Everything looked at its place
Even your name on your ice
Just at the place where fades
Whatever we do
Every trace.
Then with a poor laughter
I believed I read:
"After all,
We do not care"

Serge Reggiani - The old couple

Original Title: " Le vieux couple " Text: Jean-Loup Dabadie. Music: Jacques Datin What I like about this duo It's that...