Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Jean Ferrat - Louis Aragon - The fires of Paris

Original Title: "Les feux de Paris"
Text: Louis Aragon

Always when to the obscene mornings
Between the legs of the Seine
Like a drowned woman with crazy eyes
From the mist of your poems
The Saint-Louis Island is rising pallid
Baudelaire I think of you

When I learned to see things
Oh slowliness of the metamorphosis
It's your Paris I saw
It was required for Paris to change
Like the oranges turn blue
The whole length of my life

But to seek those adventures
The city threw its belt away
of walls of herbs and of wind
She painted her landscape
Like a girl does of her face
To seduce a new lover

Nothing is at the same place no more
And the water of the Wallace fountains
Cries after the merchants of wafers
Who were shouting Pleasure Ladies
When the pianos were practising scales
In the lounges for outfits

Where are the big tapestry makers
The reed pipes in the dust
Where are the weddings in songs
Where are the mules of Réjane
One does not go on donkey's back
To have lunch in the grass at Robinson's

What good can it do to you
One does not choose his hell
Backward what's the point to search
That the past consumes itself without you
It's here that your fate lights up
One does not choose his bonfire

With your steps the clouds move
Go away in the street with the red eye
The world bleeds in front of you
You walk in a barbarian day
The present time is burning in the Snackbars
Its purple dawn is on the roofs

To hell with the lunar beauty
And the millenial darkness
Spotlight on the Champs-Elysées
Here is the new carnival
Where electricity gives a facelift to
The edifices set ablaze

Spotlight on the man and on the woman
On the Louvre and on Notre-Dame
From the Sacré-Coeur to the Panthéon
Spotlight from the Concorde to the Ternes
Spotlight on the modern universe
Spotlight on our soul with neon

Spotlight on the darkness of the dreams
Spotlight on the arts of lies
Burn perpetual summer
Burn of our human flame
And that everywhere our hands bring back
The sun of the truth.

all poems written by Louis Aragon

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Jacques Brel - Sorry's

Original Title: "Pardons"
Sorry for that girl
We made cry
Sorry for that gaze
That we leave laughing

Sorry for that face
That a tear changed
Sorry for those houses
Where someone waits for us

And then for all those words
Which we call love words
And that we use
By way of currency
For all those oaths
Which died at daybreak
Sorry for the never's
Sorry for the always's

Sorry for the hamlet
Which never sing
Sorry for the villages
Which have been forgotten

And sorry for the cities
Where noone know one another
Sorry for the countries
Made of non-commissioned officers

Sorry to be of those
Who do not care about anything
And for not having
tried everyday

And then sorry still
And then sorry most of all
For never knowing
Who has to forgive us

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Marianne Oswald - Jacques Prévert - Children hunting

Original Title: "La chasse à l'enfant"
Text: Jacques Prévert
Bandit! Rascal! Thief! Scoundrel!

Above the island, one can see birds
All around the island there is water

Bandit! Rascal! Thief! Scoundrel!
What are those howls
Bandit! Rascal! Thief! Scoundrel!
It's the pack of honest people
That is hunting children down

He said "I am done with the reformatory"
And the wardens had broken his teeth using their keys
And then had let him lying down on the cement

Bandit! Rascal! Thief! Scoundrel!
Now he ran away
And like a hunted beast
He gallops in the night
And all gallop after him
The gendarmes, the tourists, the person of private means, the artists

Bandit! Rascal! Thief! Scoundrel!

It's the pack of honest people
That is hunting children down

To hunt children down, no need of a permit
All the decent people got down to it
What is swimming in the night
What are those flashes those noises
It's a child who is running away
He is being shot at with a rifle

Bandit! Rascal! Thief! Scoundrel!

All those men on the shore
Are empty-handed and purple with rage

Bandit! Rascal! Thief! Scoundrel!

Will you get back to the continent will you get back to the continent!
Above the island, one can see birds
All around the island there is water

Live but not complete:

Monday, September 7, 2015

Léo Ferré - Verlaine - Setting suns

Original Title: "Soleils couchants"
A weakened dawn
Scatters onto the fields
The melancholy
Of the setting suns

The melancholy
Rocks of a sweet song
My heart which forgets itself
To the setting suns

And peculiar dreams
Like suns
Setting, on the strands,
Vermilion ghosts,

Parade relentlessly
Parade, alike
To big suns
Setting on the strands.

Another version:

Friday, September 4, 2015

Gribouille - Ostende

If I knew how to speak about Ostende
Me, I'd give her your name
I would say to whom wants to hear it
That you deserve a song

Ostende, you made it so pretty to me
Noone ever changed Paris for me
And of wave's memory
If one has to believe the waves
And of seaweed's memory
If one has to believe the seaweeds.

There hasn't been before
Lovers as beautiful as us
Even so that Tristan
Was sleeping at our knees

If I knew how to speak about Ostende
I'd ask her forgiveness
Because I swear to whom wants to hear it
That it always bore your name

Ostende which was making her ships silent
I know, it was to better hear your laugh
And we were standing
Without knowing that it was raining
While drinking that thunderstorm
For God how I loved you!

The words you told me
Are not those that one writes down
Feathers and poets
Are quiet sometimes

If I knew how to talk about Ostende
I would not say anything about the sea
But I'd say to whom wants to hear it
That love gives you green eyes

I do not know how to speak about Ostende
I can only make a song
There will only be you to understand
That all along, I have said your name

Jean-Roger Caussimon - On a wish of Paul Elouard

Original Title: " Sur un voeu " Any caress, any trust survive themselves Those words so simple with light Were written by Paul...