Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux Brassens sings Aragon's famous poem of the ambiguity of love.

(Picture left)  Elsa, the muse who inspired the poet, Louis Aragon..


The lyrics of Brassens' song are taken from a very famous poem by Louis Aragon (1897-1982). Its mood is melancholic and pessimistic. Aragon admits that it was affected by his difficulties during the harsh times at the end of the war, which prevented him living life to the full with his beloved wife, Elsa. He felt that if you created a high ideal of love, the realities of life would of necessity involve a betrayal.

Below:

Brassens' recording of "Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux"

Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux by Louis Aragon

Rien n'est jamais acquis à l'homme  Ni sa force Ni sa faiblesse ni son coeur  Et quand il croit Ouvrir ses bras son ombre est celle d'une croix Et quand il croit serrer son bonheur il le broie Sa vie est un étrange et douloureux divorce Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux. Sa vie Elle ressemble à ces soldats sans armes Qu'on avait habillés pour un autre destin A quoi peut leur servir de se lever matin Eux qu'on retrouve au soir désarmés incertains Dites ces mots Ma vie  Et retenez vos larmes Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux Mon bel amour mon cher amour ma déchirure Je te porte dans moi comme un oiseau blessé Et ceux-là sans savoir nous regardent passer Répétant après moi les mots que j'ai tressés Et qui pour tes grands yeux tout aussitôt moururent Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux Le temps d'apprendre à vivre il est déjà trop tard Que pleurent dans la nuit nos cœurs à l'unisson Ce qu'il faut de regrets pour payer un frisson Ce qu'il faut de malheur pour la moindre chanson Ce qu'il faut de sanglots pour un air de guitare Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux

Nothing is for man to have and hold. Not his strength Not his weakness and not his heart. And when he thinks To open out his arms, his shadow forms a cross And when he thinks to grasp true joy, he crushes it. His life is a divorce, strange and full of sorrow. There’s no happiness in love. His life it resembles those troops stripped of their arms  Who had been geared up for a quite different fate To what end should they stir from their bunks at morning They, whom one meets  at evening disarmed, uncertain Say then these words, my love  And hold back your tears There’s no happiness in love My fairest love, my cherished love, my deepest cut I carry you within me just like an injured bird And those who unknowing watch us as we pass by Repeating after me the words that I've woven And which through your wide eyes died straightway on my lips There’s no happiness in love The time to learn to live, already, is too late For our hearts to weep in unison in the night. How much remorse does it take to pay for one thrill How much sorrow does it take for the slightest song How much weeping does it take for one tune on guitar There’s no happiness in love

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BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

Aragon met the Russian-born Elsa Triolet (1896-1970), his future wife, in 1928. Triolet was herself an authoress and her published work stretched from the late 1930s until the year of her death. She was Aragon's companion for forty years and greatly influenced his writing

TRANSLATION NOTES

(A few not too serious personal comments)

I am conscious of having no deep knowledge of Aragon. I was a teacher of French language and literature but my acquaintanceship with Aragon was only a passing one. Without any insight, however, I find myself wanting to play the game of asking what precise human experiences are hidden under the abstractions of the poem. Perhaps an expert on Aragon will put me right afterwards.

The first verse makes it quite clear, as Aragon himself explained, that he and Elsa were going through a bad patch. It had shaken their confidence as they had believed the love and understanding they used to share was forever.

The second verse is a single continuous image and I am hesitant about interpreting it. Something that as a man he has been prepared for, he is no longer able to do and his life is all empty frustration.

The third verse seems to be Aragon's acknowledgement of the great hurt he has caused Elsa, who is torn and wounded. The experience has convinced him that there is no such thing as happy love.

The last verse tells me in what way he hurt Elsa. I suspect that the short moments of excitement that have brought so much aggro with his wife were spent with an attractive young temptress. Aragon had quite a number of them listed in his little red book before he met Elsa. (Untypically, for a man with strong Communist principles, he had a love affair with Nancy Cunard, who was the heiress to the great international shipping company.)

His final plea is that they should get through these moments of torment side by side, blaming all the suffering on the human condition. However he reminds her that suffering is the inspiration of so much great art.

Thee photograph is of Louis Aragon.

Below is a new version of the song made by Eva Dénia and Merxe Martinez, recorded in concert on the 6th June 2016.
Before the song, Eva tells us, at some length, that she is very nervous at this, her first performance  of Brassens beautiful rendition of Aragon's poem

JUST TALKING TO MYSELF

A similar poem in English literature on the theme of melancholic pessimism about love and life would perhaps be “Dover Beach”, which Matthew Arnold wrote in about 1851. In it the poet asks his new wife to stand with him to face the insecurities and disappointments of modern life, when love is inadequate, traditional moral values are collapsing and men fight each other in a darkness of ignorance, where they do not know whom they are fighting and why.

"Dover Beach" by Matthew Arnold (read by Tom O'Bedlam)

I must admit that I am also adding this poem, because I admire the style of the reader and wish to keep this handy as a reminder to myself. He conveys the rhythm and the poetry but does not get in the way himself. Not an easy thing to achieve!