La première fille- The first girl that you loved is the last girl that you will forget

La première fille

Once again Brassens sings about the excitement of first love and its eternal charm. When older people reminisce about their youth, so many of them, sometimes unconsciously, reveal that the first boy/ girl with whom one falls in love somehow gets into a compartment of memory that is indestructible.

The videos of this song that  I have posted in the past have constantly failed.  I hope the select language subtitles on this one will protect me this time!

J'ai tout oublié des campagnes D'Austerlitz et de Waterloo D'Italie, de Prusse et d'Espagne, De Pontoise et de Landerneau Jamais de la vie On ne l'oubliera, La première fill' Qu'on a pris' dans ses bras, La première étrangère À qui l'on a dit "tu" (2) Mon coeur, t'en souviens-tu ?) Comme ell' nous était chère... Qu'ell' soit fille honnête(3) Ou fille de rien,(4) Qu'elle soit pucelle (5) Ou qu'elle soit putain, (5) On se souvient d'elle, On s'en souviendra, D'la première fill' Qu'on a pris' dans ses bras Ils sont partis à tire-d'aile Mes souvenirs de la Suzon, Et ma mémoire est infidèle À Julie, Rosette ou Lison Jamais de la vie On ne l'oubliera, La première fill' Qu'on a pris' dans ses bras, C'était un' bonne affaire  (Mon coeur, t'en souviens-tu ?) J'ai changé ma vertu Contre une primevère... Qu' ce soit en grand' pompe Comme les gens "bien", Ou bien dans la ru', Comm' les pauvre' et les chiens, On se souvient d'elle, On s'en souviendra, D'la première fill' Qu'on a pris' dans ses bras Toi, qui m'as donné le baptême D'amour et de septième ciel, Moi, je te garde et, moi, je t'aime, Dernier cadeau du Pèr' Noël ! Jamais de la vie On ne l'oubliera, La première fill' Qu'on a pris' dans ses bras On a beau fair' le brave, Quand ell' s'est mise nue  (Mon coeur, t'en souviens-tu ?) On n'en menait pas large(8)... Bien d'autres, sans doute, Depuis, sont venues, Oui, mais, entre toutes Celles qu'on a connues, Elle est la dernière Que l'on oubliera, La première fill' Qu'on a pris' dans ses bras,  Georges Brassens (1954 - Les amoureux des bancs publics.)

I’ve forgot’ all about campaigns Of Austerlitz and Waterloo Of Italy, Prussia and Spain Of Pontoise and of Landerneau.(1) Never all life long Will there be forgotten The very first girl Whom you took in your arms The first, new acquaintance, Whom you addressed as “tu” My heart do you remember? How dear she was to us Whether she be a nice girl Or not up to much Whether you’re her first Or she’s had a lot You still remember her You will still remember The very first girl Whom you took in your arms They have flown off at great speed My recollections of Susan And my memory’s been unfaithful To Julie, Rosetta or Liza. Never all life long Will there be forgotten The very first girl Whom you took in your arms It was a very good deal My heart do you remember? I traded my virtue For a primrose flower (6) Whether it be with great show As the « proper » folk do Or down in the back street Like the poor people and the dogs You still remember her You will still remember The very first girl Whom you took in your arms You who gave me the baptism Of love and of the seventh heaven I keep you still, I love you still Last gift from Father Christmas (7) Never all life long Will there be forgotten The very first girl Whom you took in your arms So much for my brave front When she stripped off her clothes (My heart do you remember?) You fell right down in my boots Many others, no doubt Have come along since Yes, but, among all of Those that you have known- She is the very last one Who will be forgotten The very first girl Whom you took in your arms

NOTES

(1) Brassens says that he has forgotten all the military history he learnt at school and to illustrate the point (perhaps unconsciously) he includes in the last line two places that do not seem to have any record of an important battle.

(2) The change from using the “vous” form of you to the « tu » form is made when you assume you have reached a certain stage of familiarity. It can be a sensitive moment. In English, the first tense moment of asking a girl to go out with you luckily does not also involve a question of speech etiquette.

(3) fille honnête – As well as the most usual meaning of honest, “honnête” also has the sense of decent. When speaking of a woman it means virtuous. It seemed an old fashioned adjective, but, in the end, I stuck with it. In the royal court of the 17th century, there was the concept of the “honnête homme” which was the equivalent of acting like a gentleman.

(4) De rien means “worth nothing”. This seemed too harsh in English.

(5) pucelle means virgin and putain means whore, but I wanted to soften these lines, as the harsh moral standards of the 50s, which Brassens deplored, no longer apply.

(6) Brassens uses elsewhere, the primrose, flower of early spring, as a symbol of the young love that replaces lost virginity

(7) The experience of lovemaking marked the end of childhood.

(8) On n'en menait pas large- is an idiom that means "your heart was in your boots".  Other translations given in the dictionary are: to be frightened, to be uneasy, to be in a terrible situation

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La Marguerite- A wild daisy that falls from the priest's prayer book sets evil tongues wagging

In this simple poem, Brassens describes the hysteria and malice, which is aroused in a parish of traditional believers, when they suspect that their priest, at Easter, has accepted a tiny token of sexual affection from a person unknown, but who, they readily believe, could be a young nun from the local convent, in love with him. Brassens tells the tale, largely suppressing his personal reaction until his last line of inarticulate disbelief .

LA MARGUERITE

La petite Marguerite Est tombée, Singulière, Du bréviaire De l'abbé Trois pétales De scandale Sur l'autel, Indiscrète Pâquerette, D'où vient-elle ? Dans l'enceinte Sacro-sainte, Quel émoi Quelle affaire, Oui, ma chère, Croyez-moi ! La frivole Fleur qui vole, Arrive en Contrebande Des plat's-bandes Du couvent. Notre Père Qui, j'espère, Êt's aux cieux, N'ayez cure Des murmures Malicieux, La légère Fleur, peuchère ! Ne vient pas De nonnettes,(1) De cornettes En sabbat. Sachez, diantre ! Qu'un jour, entre Deux Ave, Sur la Pierre D'un calvaire Il l'a trouvée, Et l'a mise, Chose admise Par le ciel, Sans ambages, Dans les pages Du missel. Que ces messes Basses cessent, Je vous prie. Non, le prêtre N'est pas traître À Marie. Que personne Ne soupçonne, Plus jamais, La petite Marguerite, Ah ! ça mais !* Georges Brassens 1961 - Les trompettes de la renommé

The so tiny Daisy flower Fell down Strange to say From The breviary Of the priest. Three petals Of scandal On the altar An indiscreet Easter flower Whence comes it ? In the confines Sacrosanct What a fuss ! What an outrage, Yes my dear Believe me. The frivolous Flower in flight Arrives as Contraband From the flower beds Of the convent. Our father Who I hope Art in heaven Pay no regard To the whispers Of mischief. The slight Flower, God's truth ! Does not come From little nuns In cornets At a Black Sabbath. Know – devil take me! That, one day between Hail Marys On the footstone Of a wayside cross He found it. And he put it A thing allowed By heaven Without ado In the pages Of the missal. Let these masses, All low, cease now I pray you. No the priest Is not a traitor To Mary. Let nobody Ever suspect Ever more The so tiny Daisy flower. Words fail me!

TRANSLATION NOTE

(1) De nonnettes – I had never met this word and thought that Brassens had invented this diminutive. In fact, Larousse tells me that nonnette means a young nun.

COMMENTS

1) The music of this poem comes from the rhythm of two lines of four feet followed by one line of three feet. I have tried to keep to this, but have not always managed it.

2) There is a story that Brassens offered this song to Brigitte Bardot, who, it is believed, was an intimate friend. The story goes on to say that she refused because of one line. The line to which she is supposed to have objected is: Fleur, peuchère ! The word "peuchère" is an oath of southern French origin, which Collins Robert translates as "streuth!"- which makes it quite mild. Only a native speaker knows the power of an expletive and,no doubt, Brigitte Bardot found this very unladylike.

This is a relatively unimportant line and Brassens could have easily rephrased it. I would have thought that what she would have found difficult to deliver, would be the last line, where he finally expresses his despair and disbelief at the behaviour of the respectable devout in the supposedly enlightened 20th century.

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J'ai rendez-vous avec vous -disregarding all else in the first flush of love

This lively song, which is often sung with audience participation, tells of a young man’s all absorbing love for his passionate girl-friend. 

During an interview that took place in the later years of his life, Brassens placed this song as the first of the numerous songs that were inspired by his love of Joha Heiman, his lifelong companion, for whom his affectionate name was “Püppchen”, his little doll. In this interview he quotes, in reference to her, the lines: “ La lumière que je préfère, C'est celle de vos yeux jaloux ». The rest of the poem suggests more explicitly that the start of their relationship was very passionate, in contrast with his complaints in later songs of his sexual deprivation.

A feature of the performance of this song is the gliding of the vowels that I have marked sometimes with a hyphen

Monseigneur l’astre solaire, Comm’ je n’ l’admir’ pas beaucoup, (1) M’enlèv’ son feu, oui mais, d’ son feu, moi j’m’en fous, J’ai rendez-vous avec vous ! La lumièr’ que je préfère, C’est cell’ de vos yeux jaloux, Tout le restant m’indiffère, J’ai rendez-vous avec vous ! Monsieur mon propriétaire, Comm’ je lui dévaste tout, M’ chass’ de son toit, oui mais, d’ son toit, moi j'm’en fous J’ai rendez-vous avec vous ! La demeur’ que je préfère, C’est votre robe à froufrous (2), Tout le restant m’indiffère, J’ai rendez-vous avec vous ! Madame ma gargotière,(3) Comm’ je lui dois trop de sous, M’ chass’ de sa tabl’, oui mais, d’ sa tabl’, moi j’m’en fous, J’ai rendez-vous avec vous ! Le menu que je préfère, C’est la chair de votre cou,(4) Tout le restant m’indiffère, J’ai rendez-vous avec vous ! Sa Majesté financière, Comm’ je n’ fais rien à son goût, Garde son or, or, de son or, moi j’m’en fous,(5) J’ai rendez-vous avec vous ! La fortun’ que je préfère, C’est votre cœur d’amadou,(6) Tout le restant m’indiffère, J’ai rendez-vous avec vous ! 1954 - Les amoureux des bancs publics.

Monseigneur the sun in the sky As I don’t admire him too much, Removes his light, yes, but he can beggar his light My rendez-vous is with you. The light- that I prefer-re, Is what your jealous eyes endue For all the rest I do not care-re My rendez-vous is with you. The gent who owns my pied d’ terre- As I mess up all of his place Is kicking me out, yes, but –can beggar his place My rendez-vous is with you. The dwelling that I prefer- e It’s your dress of froufrous For all the rest I just do’nt care-e My rendez-vous is with you. Madame, my dodgy grub server As I owe her too many sous, Drives me from her table, yes, but beggar her table My rendez-vous is with you. The menu that I prefer-e, Is your flesh meant for my kiss(4) For all the rest I don’t care-e My rendez-vous is with you. His Highness my finance guru As I do nothing he approves Holds back his cash, but he can beggar his cash My rendez-vous is with you! The fortune that I prefer- e Is your heart made of amadou I’m left cold  by all of the rest My rendez-vous is with you.

TRANSLATION NOTES

1) L’astre solaire is the sun and Brassens on a number of occasions expressed his exasperation with a climate where there were too many sunny days.

2) The dictionary says froufrous are showy or frilly ornamentation on a dress

3) La gargotière – Masc – le gargotier. Larousse tells us that this is a person who runs « une gargote », which is a small cheap restaurant.

4)"Cou" of course means "neck". More precisely, Larousse tells us that it means the part of the body that joins the head to the body. The French have the phrase "se jeter au cou de quelq'un" which is to greet some-one with a passionate embrace. I was unhappy with the image in English of "flesh of the neck" and I am making the sense more general..

5) Brassens seems to have written this line mainly because it amused him to have three « ors » in one line. The second “or” is the conjunction which means “now” not in a sense of time but holding a story together- eg: “There was once a very rich king, now this king had three daughters…….”

6) The other word for amadou is torchwood. It is a vegetable substance which in the olden days was used to light a fire or a lamp. Sparks were dropped onto the torchwood on which you then blew on to start a flame. The lady to whom the song was dedicated was apparently quickly stirred to passion.



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Pensees des morts Lamartine's thoughts on the death of loved ones

This is Georges Brassens at his most serious, putting into a song six verses written by one of France’s very greatest poets, Alphonse de Lamartine, who was born in 1790 in Mâcon and died in 1869 in Paris.
Lamartine was one of the leading figures of the 19th century Romantic Movement, which brought a consciousness of nature into literature and the arts.

In my interpretation of these verses, I see an awareness not of the presence of dead people we have loved, but a strong awareness of them through the pangs of absence. This view may seem bleak, like the view of nature in the first and last stanza, but it is, perhaps, a more realistic depiction.  The great sense of emptiness and the feeling of impatience for a reunion are a positive restatement of the survival of an experience of love shared across death.

We can understand Brassens’ mood when he recorded this song in 1969. His mother had died in 1962 and his father three years later. He suffered a very great blow on the 24th October 1967, when his Jeanne died and it seemed to him that his world had fallen apart.

Voilà les feuilles sans sève Qui tombent sur le gazon, Voilà le vent qui s'élève Et gémit dans le vallon, Voilà l'errante hirondelle Qui rase du bout de l'aile L'eau dormante des marais, Voilà l'enfant des chaumières Qui glane sur les bruyères Le bois tombé des forêts. C'est la saison où tout tombe Aux coups redoublés des vents ; Un vent qui vient de la tombe Moissonne aussi les vivants: Ils tombent alors par mille, Comme la plume inutile Que l'aigle abandonne aux airs, Lorsque des plumes nouvelles Viennent réchauffer ses ailes À l'approche des hivers. C'est alors que ma paupière Vous vit pâlir et mourir, Tendres fruits qu'à la lumière Dieu n'a pas laissé mûrir! Quoique jeune sur la terre Je suis déjà solitaire Parmi ceux de ma saison, Et quand je dis en moi-même : "Où sont ceux que ton coeur aime ?" Je regarde le gazon. C'est un ami de l'enfance Qu'aux jours sombres du malheur Nous prêta la Providence Pour appuyer notre coeur ; Il n'est plus : notre âme est veuve(2) Il nous suit dans notre épreuve Et nous dit avec pitié : "Ami si ton âme est pleine, De ta joie ou de ta peine Qui portera la moitié ?" C'est une jeune fiancée Qui, le front ceint du bandeau(3), N'emporta qu'une pensée De sa jeunesse au tombeau ; Triste, hélas ! dans le ciel même, Pour revoir celui qu'elle aime Elle revient sur ses pas, Et lui dit : "Ma tombe est verte ! Sur cette terre déserte Qu'attends-tu ? Je n'y suis pas !" C'est l'ombre pâle d'un père Qui mourut en nous nommant ; C'est une soeur, c'est un frère Qui nous devance un moment, Tous ceux enfin dont la vie Un jour où l'autre ravie, Emporte une part de nous, Semblent dire sous la pierre : "Vous qui voyez la lumière, De nous vous souvenez vous ?" Voilà les feuilles sans sève Qui tombent sur le gazon, Voilà le vent qui s'élève Et gémit dans le vallon, Voilà l'errante hirondelle Qui rase du bout de l'aile L'eau dormante des marais, Voilà l'enfant des chaumières Qui glane sur les bruyères Le bois tombé des forêts. Poem (1826) by Alphonse De Lamartine (In Brassens album of 1969 - La religieuse)

See yonder the sapless leaves Which fall on the grass beneath; See too how the wind is rising And whines soft in the valley; See yonder the stray swallow Which skims with its wingtip The still water of the marshes; See there the cottagers’ child Who gathers up off the heath Fallen wood from the forests. It’s the season when all things fall To winds gusting twice as strong; There’s a wind comes from the tomb That harvests the living too. They fall then in their thousands Just like the useless feather Which the eagle sheds into the air When its new-grown feathers Come bring warmth to its wings At the approach of winters. It was at this time that my eyes Watched as you grew pale and died Tender fruits, which in the daylight God did not leave to ripen! Though I am young on this earth I am already alone Among my generation And when I say to myself: « Where are those whom your heart loves » It’s to the grass that I look.  He was a friend from my childhood Whom providence lent to us(1) For dark days  of misfortune To give a lift to our hearts; He’s no more : our souls are bereft He follows us in our trial And says to us with pity: “My friend, if your soul is so filled With your joy and with your pain Who will be there to bear one half ?” She was young, newly betrothed Who, a bandage round her brow Bore off just a thought of Her youthfulness to the grave; Sad alas! In heaven itself, Again to see him she loves, She traces back her steps And tells him: «Green is my tomb! What on this bleak land Do you wait for?  I am not here! » It’s the pale shade of a father Who died, our names on his lips; It’s a sister, it’s a brother Who precedes us one brief while. All those, at the last, whose life, Snatched one day or another, Takes a part of us away. They seem to say ‘neath the stone « You who can see the light of day Do you remember us still ? » See yonder the sapless leaves Which fall on the grass beneath; See too how the wind is rising And whines soft in the valley; See yonder the stray swallow Which skims with its wingtip The still water of the marshes; See there the cottagers’ child Who gathers up off the heath Fallen wood from the forests.

TRANSLATION NOTES

1)    I have taken the liberty of transposing these two lines for the clarity of my translation!

2)    notre âme est veuve -  Collins/Robert  tells us that as well as translating “widowed” “veuf” has a literary sense of “bereft”

3)    Bandeau - Collins/Robert gives four meanings- “Headband”, Hair coil, “Head bandage”, “Blindfold”.  Perhaps a different choice in translation of one of these would suggest a different aspect to the story. ( See below)

A PERSONAL COMMENT

When I studied some poems of Lamartine for my « A » level, fifty years ago, my French teacher taught me something that I have never questioned or revised since. He said that, if you ask English people to quote a poem they know, they will recite the first verse of Wordsworth’s “Daffodils”- “I wandered lonely as a cloud…. . If you ask French people, he said, they will recite the first verse of Lamartine’s poem: “Le Lac” (1820). As I learned these verses at the age of 16, it is absolutely impossible for me to forget them. Here is the first verse:

Ainsi, toujours poussés vers de nouveaux rivages, Dans la nuit éternelle emportés sans retour, Ne pourrons-nous jamais sur l’océan des âges Jeter l’ancre un seul jour?

Always driven as we are to ever new shores Into night eternal borne off with no return Can we never ever on the ocean of time Cast anchor for one single day?

The lake in the poem was at Aix-les-Bains. In 1816, Lamartine had gone there for convalescence and had fallen deeply in love with a fellow patient, Julie Charles. She was a married lady and was suffering from tuberculosis. They planned to meet up at Lake Bourget again, a year later, but by that time, she was seriously ill and was unable to leave Paris, where she died a few months later.

Lamartine married Mary-Ann Birch, an English-woman, in June 1820. He wrote the poem, “Pensées des morts” in 1826 and it is perhaps unlikely that the young fiancée, mourned in it is Julie Charles. The bandeau that he recalls was probably a favourite headband in which he pictures some other young girlfriend, but I gave some idle thought whether I should put down “bandage”, which is an alternative translation to suggest a meeting of two convalescents .

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A reminder to myself of a touching English poem on the emptiness when a deeply loved person is gone.

The great 17th century poet, John Donne, who dearly loved his wife said that if he lost her he could not bear to look at another woman. CS Lewis disagrees. It is in the small things formerly shared together that the pain lies. His lost love for his wife. Joy Gresham, was the subject of the film “Shadowlands”

Joys that Sting by C S Lewis

“Oh doe not die,” says Donne, “for I shall hate
All women so”. How false the sentence rings.
Women? But in a life made desolate
It is the joys once shared that have the stings.

To take the old walks alone, or not at all,
To order one pint where I ordered two,
To think of, and then not to make, the small
Time-honoured joke (senseless to all but-you);

To laugh (oh, one'll laugh), to talk upon
Themes that we talked upon when you were there,
To make some poor pretence of going on,
Be kind to one's old friends, and seem to care,

While no one (O God) through the years will say
The simplest, common word just your way.

Taken from Poems by C S Lewis 1964

Please click here to return to the alphabetical list of my Brassens selection