Léo Ferré - Verlaine - Sentimental Colloqium

Original Title: "Colloque sentimental"
Text: Paul Verlaine
Year:1986
There is a very good translation here but it does not match words for words.

In the old park, lonely and frozen,
Two shapes have passed earlier.

Their eyes are dead, their lips are limp
And one can barely hear their words.

In the old park, lonely and frozen,
Two ghosts have recalled the past

- Do you remember our past ecstasy?
- Why do you want me to remember it?

- Does your heart still beat by my name alone?
Do you still see my soul in dream?

- No - Ah! The beautiful days of inexpressible happiness
When we joined our mouths! - It's possible

- How blue the sky was and how big hope was!
- Hope has fled, vanquished, to the black sky

Such they walked on in the wild oats
And only the night heard their words.

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

Léo Ferré - The missing

Original Title: "Le Manque"
Year: 1986

Your skirt is too short
I see some drawings in it, I see years in it
The turmoil which is going to disfigure you
Your skirt is too short
I can not imagine anymore

You are walking too fast
I see camel in the end of the desert
Who are dieing of thirst it's summer it's winter
You are walking too fast
I can not imagine anymore

People are looking at you
I'd like to put them in the back of your throat
You'd vomit them back with jasmine
The one who is pointing his finger at you and makes me sick
People are looking at you
I can not imagine anymore

Your skirt is too short
You are walking too fast
People are looking at me
Are looking at me imagining you

There is something missing in this obscene town
And it's you I miss
And it's you I miss

Your skirt is too short
I'd gladly climb on top of the roofs there
New York this morning had nothing left but you
Your skirt is too long
And I imagine and imagine ponds

You swim too fast
I see perfumes I smell your tiredness
You swim too fast
I die of you I die of myself
And I can't do anything else but imagine

People are queueing up
For anyone For your sour smell
You'd give them your blackberries not ripe
You are walking too fast
Give you the hand hold me on your map
Look over there on the red sign

Forbidden to live
Cops are looking at us
There is something missing in Amsterdam tonight
And it's you my love
You who run in my veins

I lost you ...and I miss you...
I can not imagine you anymore...
You the heroine....you the heroine...
Of my romance novel

rework attempt 2:

Your skirt is too short
I imagine some drawings on it
I imagine the coming years on it,
The turmoil which is going to disfigure you
Your skirt is too short
I can't anymore
I can't imagine anymore

You are walking too fast
I imagine some camels in the middle of the desert,
Dieing of thirst. It's the summer, the winter
You are walking too fast
I can't imagine anymore

People are looking at you
I wish I could shove them down your throat
And you'd throw them back up smelling jasmine
Like the one who is pointing his finger at you
And makes me feel sick
People are looking at you
I can't anymore
I can't imagine anymore

Your skirt is too short
You are walking too fast
People are looking at me
They are looking at me as I imagine you

There is something missing
There is something missing
To this obscene city
And it's you I miss
And it's you I miss

Your skirt is too short
I'd gladly climb on top of you
New York this morning had nothing left but you
Your skirt is too long
And I imagine And I imagine
And I imagine some ponds

You're swimming too fast
I see perfumes, I sense your tiredness
I die of you, I die of myself
You're swimming too fast
I can't do anything else
but to imagine

People are queueing up
For anything, For your sour smell
You'd give them your unripe blackberries
You are walking too fast
Give me the hand, hold me over your map
Look over there at the red sign

"Forbidden to live"
Cops are looking at us
There is something missing
In Amsterdam tonight
And that's you my love,
You who runs in my veins

I've lost you
I've lost you
And I miss you
I can't imagine you no more
You, the hero
You, the hero of my love novel