Georges Moustaki - Loves end one day

Text: Georges Moustaki
Original Title: "Les amours finissent un jour"
Year: 1962

Loves end one day
Lovers only love for a time
What's the point of regretting you
My beautiful love of one summer
Here already comes Winter
Soon the sky will be covered
With big clouds heavier
Than our love sorrow

Loves end one day
Lovers only love for a time
What's the point of thinking to me
There are other men than me
To say the words you expect
To offer you new springs
To forget the past
To make it start over

Loves end one day
Lovers only love for a time
What's the point of tearing each others off
Why suffer or cry
Nothing new under the sun
Everything is so much
So much the same
It'd be better from now on
To forget how we loved one another

Loves end one day
Lovers only love for a time
But us both it was different
We could have loved one another
For a long time, for a long time, for a long time

We could have loved one another
For a long time, for a long time, for a long time
Forever...

Cora Vaucaire's version:

Jean Ferrat - Will a bird song remain?

Original Title: "Restera-t-il un chant d'oiseau"
Text: Claude Delécluse
Year: 1962

What will remain on earth fifty years from now?
We are poisoning the rivers, the oceans
We are eating hydrocarbons, and what else?
The Rhône carries along mercury, dead fishes.

For the children of the new times
Will a bird song remain?

The world lost its compass. What did it win?
Beaches blackened by oil to go swimming
The atom will rule over earth, like a lord
What will we do with it, it's a matter that scares me.

For the children of the new times
Will a bird song remain?
As soon as the misfortune of men is less big
Already the apples are rotting of the new times
Children, children, the earth is round, shout louder
So that the world wakes up, if it's not dead

For the children of the new times
Will a bird song remain?

Leny Escudéro - For a fling

Original Title: "Pour une amourette"
Year: 1962

For a fling
Which was passing this way
I've lost my mind
And then here I am
For a fling
Which was setting there
For a fling
Who was reaching her arms out to me
For a fling
Who told me: Come.
I believed that a celebration
Was dancing in my hands
For a fling
Who was making happiness
I've run away from the planet
To follow her elsewhere
Then I told myself
You are at the end of the way
You can stop there
Finally rest
And when love
Drowned in her eyes
I believed that I had just
Invented the blue sky

For a fling
Who had smiled at me
I made myself honest
I changed my life
For a fling
Who knew how to love me
For a fling
Who believed she loved me
For a fling
Eternal love
Lasts the time of a party
The time of a sun
And my fling
Who was too pretty
Towards other conquests
Soon left again
The first farewell
Has kept its secret
She took away love
Leaving me the regrets
But our old spring
Blossomed again in the distance
Close against my heart
Already it was telling me

A little fling
You just have to take it as it comes
One day, two maybe
A long time sometimes
Go dry your tears
A new love
Is watching and disarms
The sorrows of a single day
A small fling
One day will come back
To turn your head
To open its arms
Sing the romance
Of some pretty dream
And I already know
That you'll say yes
Then loves
for you will blossom again
You will love again
At the pretty season
A small fling
Is never too pretty
When you know in advance
How long life lasts

Michèle Arnaud's version:

Jacques Brel - Song without words

Original Title: "Chanson sans paroles"
Year: 1962

I'd have liked my beauty
To write you a song
On this melody
Met one night
I'd have liked my beauty
Just at the Alençon lace
To write you a long poem
To write you a long I love you

I'd have told you "love"
I'd have told you "always"
But of a thousand ways
But through a thousand detours
I'd have told you "Let's leave"
I'd have told you "Let's burn
Let's burn from day to day
From season to season"

But the time for the idea
To lit up on the paper
The time to take a quillpen
The time to sharpen it
But the time to tell myself
How am I going to write it
And the time arrived
When you did not love me anymore

Georges Brassens - The assassination

Original Title:"L'assassinat"
Year: 1962

It's not just in Paris
That crime flourishes
We, in the village, also have
Nice assassinations
We, in the village, also have
Nice assassinations

He had a hoary head
And an ingenuous heart
He had a return of spring
For one of twenty
He had a return of spring
For one of twenty

But fresh flesh, tender flesh
Old pal, it's expensive
After five or six kisses
His gold had run out
After five or six kisses
His gold had run out

When her little hand she held out
Sad he answered
That he was as poor as Job
She put her dress back on
That he was as poor as Job
She put her dress back on

She went seeking her rascal
Who had the lure of gain
Came back to the curmudgeon
To play a dirty trick
Came back to the curmudgeon
To play a dirty trick

And while he held him for her
She assassinated him
It's said that when he expired
She showed him her tongue
It's said that when he expired
She showed him her tongue

Turned everything upside down
Didn't find a penny
But creditors' letters
But bailiffs' seizures
But creditors' letters
But bailiffs' seizures

Then stricken with a real remorse
She felt sorrow for the dead one
And on him falling on her knees
She says "Forgive us"
And on him falling on her knees
She says "Forgive us"

When the Gendarmes* arrived
They found her in tears
It's a tear at the bottom of the eyes
Which earned her the heavens
It's a tear at the bottom of the eyes
Which earned her the heavens

And the morning she was hanged
She was in paradise
A few devouts since that time
Are slightly unhappy
A few devouts since that time
Are slightly unhappy

It's not just in Paris
That crime flourishes
We, in the village, also have
Nice assassinations
We, in the village, also have
Nice assassinations

* Men-at-arms

Jacques Brel - Madeleine

Year: 1962

Tonight I am waiting for Madeleine
I brought some Lilac
I bring some every week
Madeleine she likes that

Tonight I am waiting for Madeleine
We will take the tram thirty three
To go eat some fries at Eugene's
Madeleine she likes that so much

Madeleine she is my Christmas
She is my own America
Even that she is too good for me
Like her cousin Joël says

But tonight I am waiting for Madeleine
We will go to the cinema
I will tell her "I love you"'s
Madeleine she likes that so much

She is so pretty
She is so all this
She is all my life
Madeleine whom I am waiting for here

Tonight I am waiting for Madeleine
But it's raining on my Lilacs
It's raining like every week
And Madeleine is not coming

Tonight I am waiting for Madeleine
It's too late for the tram thrity tree
Too late for Eugene's fries
Madeleine is not coming

Madeleine she is my horizon
She is my own America
Even that she is too good for me
Like her cousin Gaston says

But tonight I am waiting for Madeleine
I have the cinema left
I will be able to tell her "I love you"'s
Madeleine she likes that so much

She is so pretty
She is so all this
She is all my life
Madeleine who is not coming

Tonight I was waiting for Madeleine
But I have thrown away my Lilacs
I have thrown them like every week
Madeleine won't be coming

Tonight I was waiting for Madeleine
There goes the cinema
I am staying with my "I love you"'s
Madeleine won't be coming

Madeleine she is my hope
She is my own America
But it's certain she is too good for me
Like her cousin Gaspard says

Tonight I was waiting for Madeleine
Here! The last tram is going away
Eugene's must be closing
Madeleine won't be coming

She is, and yet she is so pretty
And yet she is so all this
And yet she is all my life
Madeleine who won't be coming

But tomorrow I will be waiting for Madeleine
I will be bringing some Lilac again
I will bring some every week
Madeleine she will like that

Tomorrow I will be waiting for Madeleine
We will take the tram thirty three
To go eat some fries at Eugene's
Madeleine she will like that

Madeleine she is my hope
She is my own America
Nevermind if she is too good for me
Like her cousin Gaspard says

Tomorrow I will be waiting for Madeleine
We will go to the cinema
I will tell her "I love you"'s
And Madeleine will like that.

Jacques Brel - The flat land

Original Title: "Le plat pays"
Year: 1962

With the North Sea as the last wasteland
And waves of dunes to stop the waves
And vague rocks which the tides go past
And which forever have the heart at low tide
With an infinite amount of mist to come
With the east wind listen to it hold on
The flat land which is mine.

With cathedrals as only mountains
And black church towers for greasy poles
Where stone devils take down the clouds
With the passing days as only journey
And paths of rain for only goodbye
With the west wind listen to it want
The flat land which is mine.

With a sky so low that a canal got lost
With a sky so low that it makes humility
With a sky so grey that a canal hanged itself
With a sky so grey that it has to be forgiven
With the north wind that comes to tear itself apart
With the north wind listen to it creak
The flat land which is mine.

With a little bit of Italy that would come down the Scheldt
With Frida the blond when she becomes Margot
When the sons of November comes back to us in May
When the plain is smoking and trembles under July.
When the wind is at laughing,
When the wind is at the wheat,
When the wind is from the south, listen to it sing
The flat land which is mine.

Live version:

Jacques Brel - The Bourgeois

Original Title: "Les Bourgeois"
Year: 1962

The heart well in the warm
The eyes in the beer
At the fat Adrienne from Montalant
With friend Jojo
And with friend Peter*
We were going to drink our twenty years old
Jojo took himself for Voltaire
And Peter for Casanova
And me, I who was the proudest
Me, I took myself for myself
And when around midnight were passing the notaries
who were coming out of the "Three pheasant" Hotel
We showed them our ass and our good manners
By singing to them:

"The bourgeois they are like pigs
Older they get, more they become stupid²
The bourgeois they are like pigs
Older they get, more they become ...

The heart well in the warm
The eyes in the beer
At the fat Adrienne from Montalant
With friend Jojo
And with friend Peter
We were going to burn our twenties
Voltaire was dancing like a curate
And Casanova didn't dare
And me, I who remained the proudest
Me, I was almost as drunk as myself
And when around midnight were passing the notaries
who were coming out of the "Three Pheasant" Hotel
We showed them our ass and our good manners
By singing to them:

"The bourgeois they are like pigs
Older they get, more they become stupid
The bourgeois they are like pigs
Older they get, more they become ...

The heart at rest
The eyes well down to earth
At the bar of the "Three Pheasants" Hotel
With Mister Jojo
And with Master Peter
Between notaries we were passing time
Jojo speaks about Voltaire
And Peter about Casanova
And me, I who had remained the proudest
Me, I still talk about myself
And it's when going out around midnight, Mister the superintendent
That every evening from the Montalant
Young "yobs" are showing us their behinds
While singing to us
"The bourgeois they are like pigs
Older they get, more they become stupid
do they say Mister the superintendent
The bourgeois they are like pigs
Older they get, more they become ..."

*translated Pierre to Peter and L'hôtel "Des trois faisans" to "Three Pheasants" Hotel

²The paragraph should be
"Older they become, dumber they become
The bourgeois they are like pigs
Older they get, ...they become"
I switched the order to a less grammatically correct sentence to show that there was something left hanging in the song
The ... could be replaced by a more offensive word than stupid/idiot. (in French the rhyme suggests "cons")

Edith Piaf & Charles Dumont - The lovers...

Original Title: "Les amants"
Year: 1962

When the lovers will hear
This song
It's certain, my beauty,
It's certain
That they will cry...

They will listen to
The love words
That you were saying.
They will hear
Your love voice
When you loved me.
When you believed you loved me
That I loved you, that we were loving one another

When the lovers will hear
this song
It's certain, my beauty, (I love you so much)
It's certain (we love each other so much)
that they will cry... (...way more than before)

I still hear...I hear your laugh
When sometimes I was telling you:
"If one day...
...you did not love me anymore
If one day...
...we did not love one another anymore."
You answered: "It's impossible!"
And you laughed, you laughed.
Well, you see, you should not have laughed.

When the lovers will hear
This song
It's certain, my beauty, (I love you less)
It's certain (you love me less)
That they will cry...(we love each others less)

They will listen to
The love words
That you were saying.
They will hear
Your love voice
When you loved me.
When you believed you loved me
That I loved you, that we were loving one another

When the lovers will hear
This song
It's certain, my beauty, (I do not love you anymore)
It's certain (You do not love me anymore)
That they will cry...(We do not love each other anymore)

Léo Ferré - It Fits You

Original Title: "ça t'va"
Year: 1962

You never go to the collections
You prefer to put your money flat in front of you
To buy yourself a beautiful house
Wrapped by Dior's of gothic
But as one can not go ass all bare
And then me I'd not want to
You dress yourself at a couturier of your own devising
that has affordable harnesses

It fits you
This hundred francs dress
Your messed up hair
That nothing that dresses you up

It fits you
Your pointy shoes
Even if they are knackered
It flatters your legs

It fits you
This lizard handbag
That gets a tan
Under its plastic looks

It fits you
That unprentious way
You have taken my name
To live of music

You never go at Rubinstein
That has sweet little face in tablet
Who for a long time will stage
The mug of the ladies for parade
And when you go out to the stuck-ups
And I ask you if you are ready
You say with your anarchist look:
"Me I have the sun on the facade"

It fits you
That ten francs mug
Despite what would say
The stupid photographs

It fits you
That back that goes down
Under the indecent eye
of the guys that are watching out for you

It fits you
Your wet windows
When they have watched
The joy that unwinds

It fits you
Your hands all like that
by that I do not know what
that makes the mother hens

You never go to the collections
You prefer to sew a little happiness
In our square and make your hole
Far from the nerds and their system
You are there until the end of times
Writing me the problem page
You let go of me just for me to have enough time
to make a song and tell you that I love you

It's fine by me
Your golden prison
Your adored mouth
by way of lock

It's fine by me
Your simmered dishes
so well that it feels like
eating some lust

It's fine by me
Your blessed look
that have the lovers
who remain faithful

It's fine by me
That one could say one day
"As for love
he only loved her"

Jacques Bertin - Luc Bérimont - Madam, at midnight (Christmas)

Original Title: "Madame à minuit (Noël)"
Text: Luc Bérimont
Music: Orchestre Jacques Mallebay
Year: 1962 (Léo Ferré's), 1982 (Bertin's)

Madam, at midnight, do you think we are still up ?
Madam, at midnight, do you think we are laughing ?
The wind of winter shouts in my ears
Land of Christmas, so white and alike
So poor, so old and so hard as well.

At the end of the night, the farms are dozing.
Padlocks drawed on the wine's flower
But the fire's flower ferments there and keeps watch
Like the sun at the hollow of the mills
Like the sun at the hollow of the mills

At the frozen streams, the stone is ready to split
In cold weather, there are no mad people anymore
The hour of midnight, that hour when we sing
will sting my heart way better than holly
will sting my heart way better than holly

I had countless loves and friends
Plaited laughs at the summer's sky
Then, here I'm alone, poking shadows
The winter's cartage took everything away
The winter's cartage took everything away

Why this Christmas, why those lights
Nothing else came but tears
I shan't bite in the bitter orange again
And the memory of you tears my heart
And the memory of you tears my heart

Madam, at midnight, do you think we are still up ?
Madam, at midnight, do you think we are laughing ?
The wind of winter shouts in my ears
Christmas land, so white and alike
So poor, so old and so hard as well.

Marc Ogeret's version:

Léo Ferré's version: