Click here to go to the full list of my selection of Brassens songs - In alphabetical order
This song is ranked among the best-loved songs of Georges Brassens
He has put to music a melancholic poem of Antoine Pol. The poet reviews the attractive women who have passed briefly in and out of his life, because he did know how to take the opportunity for romance. In his later lonely years, he is left with no other consolation than these fleeting pictures in his memory.
Les Passantes
| 
Je veux dédier ce poème 
A toutes les femmes qu'on
  aime 
Pendant quelques instants
  secrets 
A celles qu'on connait à
  peine 
Qu'un destin différent
  entraîne 
Et qu'on ne retrouve
  jamais 
A celle qu'on voit
  apparaître 
Une seconde à sa fenêtre 
Et qui, preste, s'évanouit 
Mais dont la svelte
  silhouette 
Est si gracieuse et
  fluette 
Qu'on en demeure épanoui 
. 
A la fine et souple
  valseuse 
Qui vous sembla triste et
  nerveuse 
Par une nuit de carnaval 
Qui voulut rester inconnue 
Et qui n'est jamais
  revenue 
Tournoyer dans un autre
  bal 
A la compagne de voyage 
Dont les yeux, charmant
  paysage 
Font paraître court le
  chemin 
Qu'on est seul, peut-être,
  à comprendre 
Et qu'on laisse pourtant
  descendre 
Sans avoir effleuré sa
  main 
A celles qui sont déjà
  prises 
Et qui, vivant des heures
  grises 
Près d'un être trop
  différent (1) 
Vous ont, inutile folie, 
Laissé voir la mélancolie 
D'un avenir désespérant 
Chères images aperçues 
Espérances d'un jour
  déçues 
Vous serez dans l'oubli
  demain 
Pour peu que le bonheur
  survienne 
Il est rare qu'on se
  souvienne 
Des épisodes du chemin 
Mais si l'on a manqué sa
  vie 
On songe avec un peu
  d'envie 
A tous ces bonheurs
  entrevus 
Aux baisers qu'on n'osa
  pas prendre 
Aux cœurs qui doivent vous
  attendre 
Aux yeux qu'on n'a jamais
  revus 
Alors, aux soirs de
  lassitude 
Tout en peuplant sa
  solitude 
Des fantômes du souvenir 
On pleure les lèvres
  absentes 
De toutes ces belles
  passantes 
Que l'on n'a pas su
  retenir | 
I wish to dedicate this poem 
To all of the women that one loves 
For just a few secret moments 
To those whom you scarcely  know 
Whom a different fate bears away 
And whom you see never again. 
To the one whom you saw appear 
For a brief second at her window 
And who, straightway, is lost from sight 
And yet whose slender silhouette 
Is so graceful and alluring 
You stay there tingling with her glow. 
The lithe girl of a stylish waltz 
Who to you seemed nervous and sad 
On that one night of  Carnival. Who wished to remain a stranger 
And who never came back to join 
In the whirl of another ball. 
To the girl who shared your journey, 
Whose eyes, charm to the spectator, Make the route travelled seem short 
Whom just you p'rhaps could understand 
And yet whom you allow to go off 
Without the mere touch of her hand. 
To those women already taken 
Who, living long and dull hours 
With a person too different 
Have let you see,  pointless folly. 
The depth of the melancholy 
Of a future deprived of hope. 
Dear images only half seen 
Disappointed hopes of just one day 
You’ll be quite forgotten the next  
If the good times should come along. 
It is rare that one remembers 
Trivial events on life’s way. 
But if you have missed out on life 
You ponder with tinges of envy, 
All those moments of bliss you glimpsed 
The kisses you did not dare take 
The hearts which must be left waiting 
The eyes that were not seen again. 
And so, on wearisome evenings,  
While peopling your loneliness 
With the phantoms of  memory 
One weeps for lips, sadly absent, 
Of all those beaut’ful passers-by 
Whom you knew not how to keep hold. | 
This song is Georges Brassens' setting of the poem by Antoine Pol
(1) Brassens tells us that when he wrote this verse, he had in his thoughts his life-long partner Joha Heiman, who was enduring a loveless marriage when he first met her.
Please click here to return to the alphabetical list of my Brassens selection
------------------------------------------------------------
We probably all have brief “might have been” relationships that stay with us for all time. The English poet, Thomas Hardy had a pretty redhead called Elizabeth Brown.
To Lizbie Browne
| 
1 
Dear Lizbie Browne, 
Where are you now? 
In sun, in rain? — 
Or is your brow 
Past joy, past pain, 
Dear Lizbie Browne? | 
2 
Sweet Lizbie Browne 
How you could smile, 
How you could sing! — 
How archly wile 
In glance-giving, 
Sweet Lizbie Browne! | 
3 
And Lizbie Browne, 
Who else had hair 
Bay-red as yours, 
Or flesh so fair 
Bred out of doors, 
Sweet Lizbie Browne? | 
| 
4 
When, Lizbie Browne, 
You had just begun 
To be endeared 
By stealth to one, 
You disappeared, 
My Lizbie Browne! | 
5 
Ay, Lizbie Browne, 
So swift your life, 
And mine so slow, 
You were a wife 
Ere I could show 
Love, Lizbie Browne. | 
6 
Still, Lizbie Browne, 
You won, they said, 
The best of men 
When you were wed.... 
Where went you then, 
O Lizbie Browne? | 
| 
7 
Dear Lizbie Browne, 
I should have thought, 
"Girls ripen fast," 
And coaxed and caught 
You ere you passed, 
Dear Lizbie Browne! | 
8 
But, Lizbie Browne, 
I let you slip; 
Shaped not a sign; 
Touched never your lip 
With lip of mine, 
Lost Lizbie Browne! | 
9 
So, Lizbie Browne, 
When on a day 
Men speak of me 
As not, you'll say, 
"And who was he?" — 
Yes, Lizbie Browne! | 
________________________________________
Comment:Oxzen said...
It has some nice bluesy guitar work and a fantastic blues harmonica solo in the middle. 5 minutes of real bliss.
Not surprising that a fellow Libran should have such a love of this beautiful piece of work, and of Brassens generally.
Les Passantes is beautiful in Italian as well: (But the Italian translation is very free!

 
4 comments:
Little mistake in the original lyrics :
Third sentence, it's not "Pendant quelques instants sacrés" but "Pendant quelques instants secrets".
You should correct, as the meaning is totally different.
Good work anyway.
Many thanks for this correction DB
The translation is good to understand the meaning of the song, unfortunately it doesn't translate any of the poetry expressed by the original or any of the ryhmes.
Coming call ingtones on smartphones are files encoded from mechanical sound waves.
Post a Comment