Jacques Bertin - At night we can't

Original Title: "La nuit on ne peut"
Year: 1977

At night, we can't really escape anymore
We enter a barn with a worrying framework like eternity
Childhood friends are sleeping in the hay
Sometimes one of them wakes up, and looks at me, and falls back asleep

There are some very young girls with whom I am madly in love
Some of their snow has remained on my shoulder
It has been so long and the snow remained
At night, we can't really escape anymore

I go out of my life on the quiet through the backdoor
Where are you? Where are you? Night uncovers and covers you, where are you?
Are you looking for me as well? Say
If we were going,
Like in the old days, to sleep in some chance decor with some good fires of scents
Would we be allowed to die there?

Lost children, punished children, are you roaming around the forbidden park
Where, night and day, God welcomes you just to give you the foretaste of return?

Henri Tachan - Like a cold

Original Title: "Comme un rhume"
Music: Jean-Pierre Roseau
Year: 1967

You, you came to me. You, you came to me like a cold
Completely naked, completely naked, the brunette's way
I should have closed my window but, but it does not matter
You would have come in, you'd have crawled under my door

You, you surprised me, by my bedside like a cold
You my illness, my epidemic, you my brunette
I should have known, I should have expected that bug
But I could not see, in my dark bedroom, anything else but your dress

And you slipped me and you've left me with your bacillus
At the paced pulse, at the insane rythm of your eyelashes
I should have pushed, I should have chased away that fever
But I was moved, but I was trapped like an hare

Then you went away, little by little, my migraine
And I, I healed under the surgical knife of the weeks
Mars' sun dispels that bitch of haze
And days which pass, little by little, erase the colds

But since then and that gush of wind on my path
Way more often than before I often cough and dread
To still keep half buttercup half chrysanthemum
The woman who sleeps at the bottom of my body like a germ
The woman who sleeps at the bottom of my body and whom I love

Jean Ferrat - Song for you

Original Title: "Chanson pour toi"
Text: Michelle Senlis
Year: 1966

When dawn thinks it's Matisse
When butterflies lose their pleats
Like to the flower of the pomegranate tree

When the first fragile sun
Hits on the closed shutters of the city
One by one to wake them up

When the first horse who trots
Has smoke under the boots
Some soil under the shoes

I open my eyes and I see you
I open my eyes and I believe you
I open my eyes and it's for you
That I want to live, my love

When noon thinks it's Cézanne
That it puts wind in the plane trees
And some blue in the olive trees

When all the herds take fright
That heat takes them, lays them down
Under the thin shadow of a fig tree

When all the streets are deserted
That none offers a green square
A shelter, a shadow, a path

I open my eyes and I see you
I open my eyes and I believe you
I open my eyes and it's for you
That I want to live, my love

When the evening turns its cliffs blue
Like a Japanese print
Like a Renoir, like a Manet

When the drunk sun capsizes
In the ocean and stretches out
Like an unfolded fan

When everything is metamorphosed
And that only the scent of the roses
Keeps exacerbating

I open my eyes and I see you
I open my eyes, I stretch out my arms
I open my eyes and it's for you
That I want to live, my love

My love

Jean Ferrat - Everything I love

Original Title: "Tout ce que j'aime"
Year: 1970

The sea and the birds flew from sleep
The thresold stone worn out by the steps of the seasons
Roses of foam and bright red fruits
The wind dreaming over my house
The watching fire
The fishes' gold
The sun
The harvests

Everything I love
Everything I love in the hollow of the hands

Fights of yesterday, fights always started over
First shout of life, seeds of the future
One step further towards beauty
Real dreams going to blossom
The won hope
Being able to unite
Goodness
To rebuild

Everything I love
Everything I love leads to tomorrow

The taste of living finally without moderation, without borders
The reasons of love, the reasons of life
Two arms like a big open book
A song against oblivion
Rightful angers
Conquered mysteries
The light
The infinity

Everything I love
Everything I love belongs to you

Graeme Allwright - Leonard Cohen - Suzanne

Text: Leonard Cohen (1966)
Year: 1967

Suzanne takes you to listen to the mermaids
She takes you by the hand
To spend an endless night
You know she is half crazy
That's why you want to stay

On a silver plate
She serves you jasmine Tea
And when you want to tell her
That you have no love for her
She calls you in her waves
And lets the sea answer
That you have always been in love with her

You want to stay by her side
Now you are not afraid anymore
To travel with closed eyes
A flame is burning in your heart

He was a fisherman who came over land
Who has watched a very long time
From the top of a lonely tower
And when he understood that only
Lost men were seeing him
He said he would sail
Until the waves free us
But he himself was broken
Way before the sky opens
Neglected and almost a man
He sank under your wisdom
Like a stone

You want to stay by her side
Now you are not afraid anymore
To travel with closed eyes
A flame is burning in your heart

Suzanne takes you to listen to the mermaids
She takes you by the hand
To spend an endless night
The sun is flowing like honey
Over Our Lady of the Tears
She shows you where to look for
Among the trashes and the flowers
In the weeds there are dreams
Of children in the early morning
Who lean over towards love
They always lean over like that
And Suzanne holds the mirror

You want to stay by her side
Now you are not afraid anymore
To travel with closed eyes
A strange wound in your heart

Serge Reggiani - Apollinaire - Under Mirabeau bridge

Serge Reggiani's version

Original Title: "Sous le pont Mirabeau"
Text: Guillaume Apollinaire
Music: Léo Ferré
Year: 1953 (Léo Ferré's version),1972 (Reggiani's version)

Under Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine
So does our loves
Must I remember it
Joy always comes after sorrow

Come the night the hour rings
The days go away I remain

Hands in hands let's keep facing one another
While under the bridge
of our arms pass
Of eternal gazes the wave is so weary

Come the night the hour rings
The days go away I remain

Love goes away like that running water
Love goes away
How slow life is
And how violent hope is

Come the night the hour rings
The days go away, I remain

Pass the days and pass the weeks
Nor time passed
Nor loves come back
Under Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine

Come the night the hour rings
The days go away I remain

Léo Ferré's version:


Yvette Giraud's version:

Charles Aznavour - From now on

Original Title: "Désormais"
Year: 1969

From now on, we won't be seen together anymore
From now on, my heart will live under the rubbles
Of this world which looks like us
And which has been devastated by time

From now on, my voice won't say "I love you" anymore
From now on, I who wanted to become your shadow
I'll be the shadow of my own self
My hand separated from your hand

Never more, will we bite the same fruit
Will we sleep in the same bed
Will we do the same gestures
Never more, will we know the same fear
To see our happiness flee
And incidentally...From now on.

From now on, people will see us one without the other
From now on, we will change our habits
And those words I believed ours
You will tell them between other arms

From now on, I will keep my door closed
From now on, locked in my loneliness
I'll hang out among things
Which will still be talking about you

Never more, will we bite the same fruit
Will we sleep in the same bed
Will we do the same gestures
Never more, will we know the same fear
To see our happiness flee
And incidentally...From now on.

We won't be seen together anymore
We won't be seen together anymore

Live version:

Monique Morelli - Villon - The legacy

Original Title: "L'an quatre cent cinquante six (Le Lais)"
Text: François Villon
Music: Lino Léonardi
Year: 1974
Quite a difficult translation, will need a rework

Year Fourteen hundred fifty six
I, François Villon, student
Considered, having stale sense,
The bit between the teeth, being straightforward
That we must advise his work ,
Like Vegetius says
Wise Roman, big conseillor
Or else we are mistaken ...

In those times, I talked about,
Around Christmas, dead seasons,
That the wolves live of the wind,
And that we hold ourself in our home
For the wintry weather, near the brand
Come to me the desire to break
The very loving prison
Which always was unbreaking my heart

I did it in such a way
Seeing her in front of my eyes
Agreeing to my undoing
Without anything being better for her
Of which I mourn and complain to the sky
By requesting vengeance of her
To all the victorious gods
And alleviation of the love grief

And if I took in my favor
Those sweet regrets and pretty pretenses
Of very disappointing taste,
Piercing through me up to the sides
Fine they have their white feet towards me
And fail me when in great need
Seed, I must, other complaints
And hit in another corner

The look of That one took me
Who was perfedious and tough to me
Without this would have any contempt
Wants and commands that I endure
Death and that I do not last anymore
If I see no other assistance but in fleeing
Break up the keen binding
Without hearing my pious regrets!

To obviate to those dangers
The best for me is, I believe, to go away
Farewell! I'm going to Angers
As she does not want to grant me
Her grace, nor abandoning me
By her, die the healthy limbs
Deep inside, I am a martyr lover
Among the loving saints!

Léo Ferré - Caussimon - Nights of absence

Original Title: "Nuits d'absence"
Text: Jean-Roger Caussimon
Year: 1985

There are nights when I go away
Discretely, secretely
My image alone is present
It has my forehead, my clothes...
It's my double in that mirror
It's my cinema stand-in
To that reflection replacing me
You'd swear I'm there

But I fly over in a hang-glider
The blue tops of the Pyrénées
In Andorra-The-Catalan
I let my destiny go...
I trample a rye field
Or maybe a wheat field
In the air, I've met eagles
And I thought I looked like them...

The summer wind, sometimes, carry me away
Too far, it's a risk to take
In the tumult of the arena's
I'm everything which must die
I am the poor nag
Belly opened by a bull
I'm the bull who falters
I'm the fear...of the torrero
Weekday or is it Sunday?
All shivering in the thaw
I'm on the edge of the White sea
In the white night of Arkhangelsk
I hail drunk sailors
As much from alcohol than sleep
"That bleak glare on the frost
Is if the moon...or the sun?"

The pale day saddens the furniture
And here it's, it's already tomorrow
The frost persists to the blind eyes
Of my dog which is looking for my hand...
And you, you sleep in the silence
Where, without me, you manage to recover
That calm face from childhood
Which moved me...to the point of crying...

There are nights when I go away
Discretely, secretely
My image alone is present
It has my forehead, my clothes...
It's my double in that mirror
It's my cinema stand-in
To that reflection replacing me
You'd swear I'm there

There are nights when I go away
Discretely, secretely
My image alone is present
It has my forehead, my clothes...
It's my double in that mirror
It's my cinema stand-in
To that reflection replacing me
You'd swear I'm there

Jean-Roger Caussimon - On a wish by Paul Eluard

Original Title: "Sur un voeu"
Year: 1977

Any caress, any trust survive themselves
Those words so simple made of light
Were written by Paul Eluard
More fervent words than a prayer
And louder than a shout
They are stronger than invectives
Than violence or contempt
They spurted out like flowing water
There speaks the heart before the mind

Any caress, any trust survive themselves
Where are the singing futures
And that forever promised happiness
In the indifferent cities
Everybody thinks he sees his enemies
But if by chance it happens
To glimpse a friendly gaze
Among so many fleeing shadows
Let that gaze be passed on

Any caress, any trust survive themselves
For the motherly lulaby
The voice of the father at home
And for the memory of the one
Who loved you more than reason
Let nothing drift off
And let the happiness of a moment
Write itself on a sky of future
And shines with time
Any caress, any trust survive themselves

Anne Vanderlove - Tell me

Original Title: "Dites-moi"
Year: 1967

Tell me, you had it though the heart for laughing
Tell me, you had it though the heart between your teeth
And then from the heart to the eyes so many things to say
When you were the color of the Grand Meaulnes and the wind
But from sand to dunes, and from falls to rains
Grand Meaulnes fled away
And your frail teenage years followed him

Tell me, you had it though the heart for laughing
Tell me, you had it though the heart between your teeth
When you were shown the big words in the books
Those that toppled down the walls and make children grow older
But the children are dead and the rifles rusty
The neglected paths
And already on the stone
Grass closed in

Tell me, you had it though the heart for laughing
Tell me, you had it though the heart between your teeth
And then from the heart to the eyes so many things to say
That you could have well done better really
Tell me, what have you done with so many seasons?
Your gardens, without further ado
are tearing your heart up
With heavy blows of thistle

Mouloudji - Verrières - My pal the Gipsy

Original Title: "Mon pot' le gitan"
Text: Jacques Verrières
Music: Marc Heyral
Year: 1955

My pal the Gipsy is an odd fellow
A mug all black, eyes all blue
He stays for hours without saying a word
Sitting beside the stove, at the bottom of the bistrot
That guy, a caravan wanders in his head,
And when it travels, never does it stop
A whole bunch of sceneries come out of his eyes
My pal the Gipsy, is one odd fellow

My pal the Gipsy is not a funny guy
And in our bistrot, noboby understands him
Like all those guys, he has his guitar
A dirty guitar which makes you brood
When he starts playing, the old caravan
runs wild in his head, the belote players stops
And nothing no more, we hurt inside.
My pal the Gipsy is not a funny guy

My pal the Gipsy left one day
And God only knows where he trails his life
That guy was a great musician
That I was certain of, I felt it
The boss told me someone came looking for him
A great music hall wanted to buy him
My pal the Gipsy, he refused, a shrug, and he left

I had the feeling to lose a friend,
And yet that guy never told me anything
But he left me a piece of his caravan
And in my small head, there is some dream wandering
His weird music, stayed inside of me
When I think of him, it happens I sing
You, damn Gipsy who smelled of the blues
Afterall your music was full of hope.

Serge Reggiani - The old couple

Original Title: "Le vieux couple"
Text: Jean-Loup Dabadie.
Music: Jacques Datin
Year: 1972

What I like about this duo
It's that you make the higher voice
It's you who know, you who say
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.

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
Year: 1986

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