Souvenirs, Souvenirs [French Version]
I will neither see the golden glow of the falling evening, Nor the sails going down to Harfleur in the distance, And when I arrive, I will place on your tomb A bouquet of green holly and flowering heather. Le Pont Mirabeau talks about lost love by likening it to the flow of the river Seine under the Mirabeau bridge in Paris. Today, you can see a plaque containing the first part of the poem on a wall in Le Pont Mirabeau in Paris, overlooking the Louis Bleriot quay. Via Wikimedia Commons. Mirabeau Bridge Translated by Richard Wilbur Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine And our loves recall how then After each sorrow joy came back again Let night come on bells end the day The days go by me still I stay Hands joined and face to face let's stay just so While underneath The bridge of our arms shall go Weary of endless looks the river's flow Let night come on bells end the day The days go by me still I stay All love goes by as water to the sea All love goes by How slow life seems to me How violent the hope of love can be Let night come on bells end the day The days go by me still I stay The days the weeks pass by beyond our ken Neither time past Nor love comes back again Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine Let night come on bells end the day The days go by me still I stay.
This poem has been turned into a song many times over, with different artists adding their own brand of music into the poem. One of those songs is this version by Marc Lavoine which you can also listen to in this link. This next French poem is from one of the works of Arthur Rimbaud. This poem is rather thin in appearance but quite profound in meaning.
Eternity It has been rediscovered. It is the sea fled With the sun. Sentinel soul, We whisper confession Of the empty night And the fiery day. From human prayers, From common spirits You free yourself And thus you fly. Since from you alone, Satin embers, Duty breathes No one says: at last.
No hope here, No emergence. Knowledge with patience, Torment is certain. It has been rediscovered. It is the sea fled with the sun. Les Roses de Saadi is one of the most known works of Marceline Desbordes-Valmore and was published posthumously in Short, sweet, and somewhat nostalgic, it is up to the reader to decide if it is a love poem or not, or if should be taken for its obvious interpretation or to look for hidden meanings.
Desbordes-Valmore, however, is known for her straightforward poems laced with melancholy and sorrowful mourning. The Roses of Saadi I wanted to bring you roses this morning; But I had closed so many in my sash That the knots were too tight to contain them. The knots split. The roses blew away. All blew off to the sea, borne by the wind, Carried to the water, never to return. The waves looked red as if inflamed.
Tonight, my dress is still perfumed. Breathe in the fragrant memory. Our final poem is another one that expresses sorrow. Et notre sort! Comme nous sommes seuls!
- Aquinass Summa Theologiae (Critical Essays on the Classics Series).
- Joan Of Orleans.
- Attività estreme e stati alterati di coscienza (Italian Edition).
- Charles Baudelaire (French Edition);
Comme la vie est triste! Sad, Sad I contemplate my fire.
Souvenirs, Souvenirs [French Version] Lyrics
I stifle a yawn. The wind weeps. The rain streams against my window. Next door a piano plays a ritornello. Her fame became international: She appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show several times. I have never been able to believe that Piaf's life was quite as dramatically bohemian as her publicity material described it. Nostalgie de la boue is, after all, a very French expression. That life undoubtedly had its ups and downs, though. Since this can be said of almost any life, the desire to see oneself as the heroic bloody-but-unbowed survivor of fate's cruel assaults is one that stirs in most of us from time to time.
5 Lovely French Poems with English Translations
When it stirs, here is Edith Piaf to validate it. For one of those mysterious culturo-linguistic reasons, the metaphor works in French, but not in English. Navigate up My home page Readings index. Non, rien de rien, Non, je ne regrette rien. Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs, je n'ai plus besoin d'eux.
- Le château de ma mère (Souvenirs d'enfance, #2) by Marcel Pagnol.
- Release “Ma vie : Mes plus grands succès” by Julio Iglesias - MusicBrainz.
- See a Problem?.
- Deciphering Tablet Number XIII The Keys of Life and Death by Thoth the Atlantean.
- 2. Guillaume Apollinaire - Le Pont Mirabeau;
- Anything But Ordinary: Book 6 of The Tamar Black Saga?
- Permanent Waving - The Golden Years.