Jean-Max Brua - The Man from Brive

Original Title: "L'homme de Brive"
Year: 1972

It was warm that day
The dog was sleeping in the dust of the yard
She was busy doing the laundry in the kitchen
When the light changed
Standing in the doorway
A man she could not see very well
Thinking like an idiot:
I did not hear the dog
Then wiped her hands
They were fresh with soap
He says: "After the bridge
I almost lost my way

He came in for good.
Told her: I've been sent by the tall one
But I apologize, I've been walking all the way from Brive
And without knowing, here I am, catching you
In laundry
She says: With those heats
We dirty so much more that we perspire
If we were counting our hours
We would believe there was no end to it
And then, I forget everything
I haven't even proffered you anything
But one does not refuse a drink
When one has walked all that fragment

Sat down on the bench
Told her she was lucky
For the tall one
She poured him some wine
Felt embarrassed of the sudden silence
He was giving himself some time
Emptied his drink with small sips
Smiled from time to time
To her who was staying up
Then says: How warm it is
We are both alone, or just as much.
She says: I have lost my man
It's been fourteenth months soon

She made him her womanly face
Who knew how to wait for someone to pass
He had his hands of wool
His smile, his eyes of ashes
His breath
Then he came back to the bench
While she was putting back her dress
How so, for the tall one, you know
I have to tell you about it in sequence
She says: "There is indeed a tall guy
It's the elder son of the neighbors
You'll take the path
Just after the white wall..."

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.

Jacques Bertin - I ring at your door

Original Title: "Je sonne chez vous"
Year: 1972

I ring at your door empty handed
I am only giving my song
I do not know the first words of it nor the music
But hear

That breathing which is mine
Rolled in a ball
And on it holds its song
I giving nothing else but friendship
In the broken bowl of the head
Like that dog in the gaze of men
Who lived

Happy the one who receives me in his home
And with his hand he caresses his wife
And the sheets are folded in the cupboard
At the place of the sheets
And the hour at the place of hour

And the laugh of your child
it looks like chalk
And all things have the dead momentum
Of the stones

I am giving nothing else but my dead song
Which is surprised by the deads

Barbara - Incestuous loves

Original Title: "Amours incestueuses"
Year: 1972

My love, my beauty, my king
My child whom I love
My love, my beauty, my law
My other self
You are the setting sun
fell on earth
You are my last spring
My god, how I love you

I had already done my way
I was walking toward the silence
With quite some insolence
I did not want anyone no more
I was going forward in an autumn
My last autumn maybe

I did not desire anything nomore
But like a miracle
You appeared in my light

And you my love, my king
Shattering my borders
And you my setting sun,
My sky and my earth
You gave me your twenties
From the heart of yourself
You are my last spring
My god, how I love you

I always thought that loves,
The most beautiful loves,
Were the incestuous loves
There was in your eyes
There was in your eyes
A luminous tenderness

You wanted to live with me
The most beautiful loves
The loves that are the most beautiful

I reopened my house
Wide my windows
And I crowned your forehead
I kissed your mouth
And you my adolescent
You, my tear,
You laid your twenties
To my forties

But barely are they born
That they are already condemned
The loves of desperation
For to never become tarnished
That diamond that was given to us
I burnt our cathedral

The most beautiful loves,
The loves that are the most beautiful
Are the incestuous loves

Farewell, my love, my king
My child whom I love
Later you will understand it
When one loves one has to
Leave at the most beautiful I think
And hide one's sorrow

My love, my child king
I go away and I love you
This is my truth
From the heart of myself

Live version:

Jacques Bertin - Novel

Original Title: "Roman"
Year: 1972

He was coming down the mountain and the silence and in front of him men
Up there he was alone; one cannot hear anything but the wind
He was coming down, in his head he was looking for the implacable word
That would bind him to the world, to men and to himself for ever

Toward him you were moving forward barded with objects, small, puny,
History closed on you like a wicket that is being brought down
We were only saying a few words, only a few words, always the same ones
You didn't know who you were, earth was rolling under your steps

He was coming down, you told him, "You come, your are one of us"
You told him "You are a part of ourselves", he didn't like you
He was young, he was looking for God, he was only looking for the word
Like a broad and luminious belly where everything is getting calm and the wind falls down

But he was gliding toward you and he smelled the smell of men
He felt himself sinking, he didn't like you
You were holding your hands out to him, the hands gnawed, the bones: look!
He saw that he had the same hands, the same death stuck at the fingertips

He heard your complaint about the city and it was coming out of his mouth
He saw you the throat slit in the gullies of Algeria
He heard his own groan that was going up from the metro Charonne
In the Vercors he was getting up with the shadows beating the air on the crosses

Near Chateaubriant in the hedges the executed soldiers sing
At night in the suburbs the posters peel to the wind
It's always the same words on the ground simply asking to be picked up
And to be carried from hand to hand, most of all that we do not forget

The same words always at night, alike and the day before
The same song, the same groan, not much, hurt words
May it be that we haven't lived for nothing. It's simple
And that song will last like Earth will.

The enemy is stronger than ever now that our song is weak
The same words come from Billancourt, from Prague and from Madrid
It's always the time to put up barricades of words
It's always today that we have to defend that inferno there

A woman was passing with in the eyes the same tear
The same crushed dream at the bottom of the eyes. They recognized each other’s
A few moments and a door that is being closed already
Without lying he had had the time to tell her he loved her

He was betting every moment, he was talking of present things
He was of every fight systematically
He had no hope, no future, he was drunk
He was standing in History like the stopped sob of a child.

Barbara - Perlimpinpin

Year: 1972

For whom, how, when and why?
Against whom? How? Against what?
Enough with your violences.

Where do you come from?
Where are you going?
Who are you?
Who do you pray?
I ask you to be silent.

For whom, how, when and why?
If it's absolutely necessary for us to be
Against someone or something.

I am for the setting sun
At the top of the deserted hills.
I am for the deep forests.

Because a child who cries,
No matter where he is from,
Is a child who cries.
Because a child who dies,
At the end of your rifles,
Is a child who dies.

How appalling it is to have to choose
Between two innocences.
How appalling it's to have for enemies
The laughs of childhood!

For whom, how, when and how much?
Against whom? How and how much?
To the point of losing the taste of living

The taste of water, the taste of bread
And the one of the Perlimpinpin²
In the Square des Batignolles

But for nothing, but for almost nothing,
To be with you and that's fine!
And for an half-open rose,

And for a breathing,
And for a breeze of abandon,
And for a shivering garden!

Having nothing, but passionately,
Frantically not saying anything to one another
But give everything ecstatically

And wealthy with deprivation
Only have one's own truth,
Own all the wealths.

Not speaking of poetry
While trampling down wild flowers.
And invoke transparence,
At the back of a yard with grey walls
Where dawn never stands a chance.

Against whom, how, against what?
For whom, how, when and why?
To find back the taste of living,

The taste of water, the taste of bread
And the one of Perlimpinin
In the Square des Batignolles

Against noone and against nothing,
But for all the open flowers,
But for a breathing,
But for a breeze of abandon
And for that shivering garden!

And to live passionately
And to fight only
with the fires of the tenderness

And wealthy with deprivation
Only have one's own truth,
Own all the wealths

Not speaking of poetry anymore
But let the wild flowers live

And invoke transparence
At the back of a yard with grey walls
Where dawn would finally stand a chance

To live,
To live,

And to live passionately
And fight only
with the fires of the tenderness

And wealthy with deprivation
Only have one's own truth
Own all the wealths

Nothing else but tenderness as only wealth

And to give,
But to give,
ecstatically!

To live,
To live,
With tenderness,
To live,
To live,
ecstatically!

Nothing else but tenderness as only wealth

And to give,
But to give,
ecstatically!

²Perlimpinpin powder is alike to "Snake Oil".
Live version:

Jacques Bertin - Leave a window open

Original Title: "Laissez une fenêtre ouverte"
Year: 1972

Leave an open window to your house
Between the railway and the river
I hear you, I hear the noises of the meal,
Your child, I hear you whisper in your first sleep,

I shall come later lurk in the courtyard
The dogs will be calm, they will come at my feet
Your dreams come past with scattered words
They are going in the river escorted with torches

I shall watch over you in the pelisse of the night
And the muzzle of the dogs, at the first noise of dawn I will go away
You will push the shutter open, you will never know
I was so close to you.

Jacques Brel - Do not leave me

Original Title: "Ne me quitte pas"
Year: 1972

Do not leave me
We have to forget
Everything can be forgotten
That escapes already
Forgetting the time
Of the misunderstandings
And the lost time
Namely how to
Forget those hours
Which killed sometimes
through why's
The heart of happiness
Do not leave me
Do not leave me
Do not leave me
Do not leave me

I, I'll offer youv Pearls of rain
That came from countries
where rain never falls
I would dig the earth
Until after my death
To cover your body
with gold and light
I'll make a domain
Where love will be king
Where love will be law
Where you will be queen
Do not leave me
Do not leave me
Do not leave me
Do not leave me

Do not leave me
I'll make up for you
insane words
That you'll understand
I'll talk to you
about those lovers there
Who have seen twice
their hearts flare up
I will tell you
The story of that king
Dead for not having been able
to meet you
Do not leave me
Do not leave me
Do not leave me
Do not leave me

We have often seen
the fire spurting out again
from the ancient volcano
That we thought too old
There are, apparently
Some scorched fields
Yielding more wheat
Than a better April
And when evening comes
For the sky to blaze
The black and the red
aren't they wedding?
Do not leave me
Do not leave me
Do not leave me
Do not leave me

Do not leave me
I'll no longer cry
I'll no longer speak
I'll hide there
Looking at you
dance and smile
And listening to you
sing and then laugh
Let me become
The shadow of your shadow
The shadow of your hand
The shadow of your dog
But
Do not leave me
Do not leave me
Do not leave me
Do not leave me

Jacques Bertin - Morning

Original Title: "Matin"
Year: 1972

Morning where belated young girls go
Raised nets, drying nets of lover girls
Morning, birth in secret the strong brass under the shapes and up to the fruit the evening of the day bleeding.
Morning, the cigarette white and thin between the fingers. The life given back, given back.
Morning, on the back of the hand the tangerine and all the things that I believe in.
Morning, the resurgence of underground words, a serene pain and the buying back of all the words by the stone.

Maxime and Catherine Le Forestier - The sentimental education

Original Title: "L'éducation sentimentale"
Year: 1972

Tonight in the mist
We'll go, my brunette
pick up oaths
This wild flower
that wreaks havoc
In children hearts
For you, my princess,
I'd make braids out of it
And in your hair
These oaths, my beauty,
will turn you cruel
toward your lovers

Tomorrow at dawn
We'll go once again
glean in the fields
pick up promisses
Flowers of tenderness
And of feeling
And up the hill
In the waterfowls
You will lay down
Into my arms, my dear,
Moonlit
You will give yourself

It's at twillight,
When the dragonfly
falls asleep in the swamp
that we will have to, my neighbor,
leave the hill
And quickly come back
Don't say a word, my brunette,
Not even to the moon,
And I, on my own,
will go single-handed,
I will remain quiet
I won't say a word

Tonight in the mist
We'll go, my brunette
pick up oaths
This wild flower
that wreaks havoc
In children hearts
For you, my princess,
I'd make braids out of it
And in your hair
These oaths, my beauty,
will turn you cruel
toward your lovers

Jacques Bertin - A moment

Original Title: "Un instant"
Year: 1972

A moment like fallen from the pocket, a cigarette
A moment or a blade of grass pulled up from the water
A caesura in the running, in the breath
A measurement for nothing just before the sob
A wound cutting in two the ear of the plain
to throw there a river like a water trickle
If you talk it does not matter
Talk of the body's presence and of rest

In the shoulder, a moment motionless
In the shoulder of the earth
Stopped between the two pages of the book
A moment

A gaze on life gathered the whole life
On a floor the piano under a little girl's fingers
The silence on the roofs. The music
And just below certainties, that moment
Just below words, promisses, habits
To recognise ourselves stranger to ourselves and strong, a moment

A moment, on the bridge
Or it's me arched between the banks
And from everywhere the call swelling, the uncertain call
The noise, the noise of the street, of building sites, the noise of the blood
In the arteries the noise, always the same noise
of tiredness and of fear, the noise of blood

Life or something as usual
that doesn't dare to say its name
Maybe the friendship for men
A stolen fruit on a stal and nothing more
A moment in that bedroom where a woman
is undressing slowly in the protected silence of her curtains.

Jacques Bertin - Claire

Year: 1972

Hear :
The record is turning without playing
Do you hear the silence
A footstep is fading in the staircase
It's not completely night

Your girlfriend will come back tomorrow
Or it'll be another one, it does not matter,
with braids or Claire
With her blond hair and the accent from Quebec

There will be gatherings tomorrow
and under the rain marches
for the Vietname or Greece
and you, you sign with both hands

You don't like shouts
though you do not like those who believe in it
Claire will maybe come
But you'd prefer to be alone

You'd walk on the sidewalk
along the march
You'd not shout the slogans
Claire doesn't dare to talk to you

Claire has small breasts
She doesn't like to stay naked after love
You are not sure if you love her
but she has a confident gaze

She says she learned to have an orgasm with you
You do not answer anything
You do not want her to imprison you
You stay aloof

Catch up Claire in the staircase
Tell her: Come back Claire
Hold her back, the night is falling
And the silence is scoffing at you
Claire, hold her back

Hear :
The record is turning without playing
Do you hear the silence
A footstep is fading in the staircase
It's not completely dark

Jacques Bertin - You Talk About Life

Original Title: "Tu parles de la vie"
Year: 1972

You talk about life
like one bubbles in a glass

Let's drink quickly
and give the same again please!
You still have the enormous laugh
And the way of the soldier

You know that somewhere
A girl is calling for you
And almost naked already
with sovereign hips
In linen and horses processions
and emblems
You go up the stairs
Everything goes quiet
we hear your steps

But the night, sometimes,
The night when you wake up
It's like in the cinema
Everything would stop
The theater lights up again
And you are scared

The light is of the world's end
And you stood up
With a dreadful laugh
that the audience does not hear
You suffocate, you stick to the window
the arms stretched out sideways
One day and with a sharp knock you break the window
you hang yourself from it

The man who was laughing he knew
Everything is absence
The crowd withdraws and doesn't dare to cry
There are eskimo pie papers in the aisles.

Jacques Bertin - That girl

Original Title: "Cette Fille"
Year: 1972

That girl who threw a glance at me in St Germain, I've followed her for a long time.
One night I dreamt that I was penetrating in the breasts of a blond under the velvet vest
She had your face but I was certain it wasn't you
Another time I saw her eyes again laying upon me in a basement.

You thought I was silent but she, the other one, she was calling me
You asked me "Do you love me?" but the question was elsewhere

That belly movement against me of a woman asking for love
Then on the sandbank were remaining objects and scattered gazes
And I need each one like in the plain the lights, the smokes
They are only asking for one thing that you go with them for a short time

In their novel, page after page, offered their shoulder against my shoulder
And I who everytime step back without giving myself

I was coming out from a girl's home, in the street rain was welcoming me
You felt my love that from very far I was coming back toward you
One day, I will take you with my power and I'll know the fervour of the gift
It will be this evening and I come back from a journey

You open the door for me, you are in tears. You tell me:
I was expecting you yesterday evening but it has been four years that I'm waiting for you.

Jacques Bertin - Do not talk

Original Title: "Ne parlez pas"
Year: 1972

Do not talk about unknown lands
Do not talk about living another life
Do not stand on your feet to see another world
There is this collar with every move, it strangles you

Talk about the pain of this bitter land
Where crows watch over the seed
Teach yourself to live back pinned down
This knife hurting you let it be a train

Accustom your eyes to a powerful hatred
just like the weapons in the attics piled up
Motionless under the smashed in crates

A hatred like a naked woman, cold and superb
A hatred tenacious and blue, a light
A strength, a running water, a train thrown to the south
A hatred attentive and self-assured
A hatred that knows how to listen, hold back and knows how to wait
The hatred be for those who are accomplices to the crows
Those who possess the word and sell it
The frivolous and the show-offs, the entertainers and their songs
Those who put flowers on your chains, those who flatter you

Listen! The night talks, the night beats
Water fishes, fears, tears, reversed flowers
Listen! Your life is here, opened in two, it's groaning softly
Put the neck on the road and hold back your terror
Talk for your friends, sitting in a circle
Talk for those who drive in the night
Talk as if the whole world was here
Gathered under you eyelids like before the hearth
Talk for me, tell me the name of sorrow
That sob that dampens the windows of the cities
Tell me about the endless staircase and the anger
Tell me your name, your first name and who loves you
And that muzzled singing by the garrulous radios
It shines at the bottom of our pockets like a penkife
It seeps on the walls, it turns the cracks blue

The muzzled singing, the song always, the human's song
It talks about us, it gives us weapons
It sharpens the gates, it opens the knives
We hear it it's the noise of the steps in the subway corridors

It's the appalling breath of the dawn in the stations
That song like a Sunday at the exit of the churches
The wind in the girl's skirts lifted up
The hatred with love mingled, the revived song
It carries us forward of ourselves, it waits, it exults

It talks to you, leaning in your ear
You answer it and your heart beats like a drum
The words go in the carmine vessels of the earth
An arm is resting on your arm that says "Listen !"