Jacques Brel - The tender hearts

Original Title: "Les coeurs tendres"
Year: 1967

Some have the heart so broad
That you come in without knocking
Some have the heart so broad
That you only see half of it

Some have the heart so frail
That you could break it with a finger
Some have the heart too frail
to live like you and me

They have plenty of flowers in the eyes
The eyes just above the fear
For fear of missing the time
That leads to Paris

Some have the heart so tender
That there lays the tits
Some have the heart too tender
Half men and half angels

Some have the heart so vast
That they are always on a trip
Some have the heart too vast
To do without mirages

They have plenty of flowers in the eyes
The eyes just above the fear
For fear of missing the time
That leads to Paris

Some have the heart outside
And can't do anything else but to offer it
The heart so much outside
That everyone makes use of it

That one has the heart outside
And so frail and so tender
That be damned the dead trees
that would not hear it

Has plenty of flowers in the eyes
The eyes just above the fear
For fear of missing the time
That leads to Paris

Léo Ferré - Verlaine - Oh sad, sad was my soul.

Original Title: "Ô triste, triste était mon âme"
Text: Paul Verlaine
Year: 1964

Oh sad, sad was my soul
Because, because of a woman

I did not console myself
Even though my heart has gone away

Even though my heart, even though my soul
Had fled far away from that woman

I did not console myself
Even though my heart has gone away

And my heart, my too sensitive heart
Said to my soul: Is it possible?

Is it possible? - was it -
This proud exile, this sad exile?

My soul said to my heart: Do I know
Myself what this trap wants from us

To be present although exiled
Even though gone so far

Oh sad, sad was my soul
Because, because of a woman

Another version:

Monique Morelli - Villon - Epitaph (Ballad of the hangmen)

Original Title: "Epitaphe (Ballade des pendus)"
Text: François Villon (XVth Century)
Year: 1974, 1968 (Reggiani's reading)

Brothers human who after us live
Do not have the hearts hardened against us
Because, if pity of us poors have
God would rather have mercy of you
You see us here tied up by five or six
As of the flesh, that we have fed too much,
It's devoured and roten for a long time
And we, the bones, become ash and powder
Of our misfortune let noone laugh about:
But pray God that all of us want to absolve!

If brothers we call you, you do not have
Disdain from it, although we have been slayed
By Justice. However you know
That all men do not have the mind go stale
Pardon us, as we are chilled to the bone
Toward the Son of the Virgin Marie
Let his grace not be dried up for us
Preserving us from the infernal thunderbolt
We are dead, do not harass our soul
But pray God that all of us want to absolve!

The rain has soaked us and washed us
And the sun dried us out and blackened
Magpies, crows have our eyes hollowed out
And teared off the beard and the eyebrows
Never a moment are we sitting:
Then here and there, like the wind varies
At his will, endlessly, sweeps us along,
More pecked by birds than a thimble
So do not be of our brotherhood
But pray God that all of us want to absolve!

Prince Jesus, who on everything has control
Be careful that Hell does not rule over us
To him have nothing to do or settle with
Men here have no mockery
But pray God that all of us want to absolve!

Serge Reggiani's version:

Monique Morelli - Villon - Rondeau (Death, I appeal against your harshness)

Original Title: "Rondeau (Mort, j'appelle de ta rigueur)"
Text: François Villon (XVth Century)
Year: 1974

Death,
I appeal against your harshness
which has ravished me my mistress
And is not assuaged yet
If you do not hold me in languidness:

Since,
had nor strength nor vigour
But what harm was she doing to you alive,
Death ?
But what harm was she doing to you alive,

Two we were
and had only one heart;
If it's dead, no choice but to deviate,
indeed, or for me to live lifeless
Like the images, by heart,
Death !