I tell the story in my essay on the love of Georges Brassens and Jeanne Planche
Chanson pour l'auvergnat
Elle est à toi cette chanson Toi l'Auvergnat qui, sans façon, M'a donné quatre bouts de bois Quand dans ma vie il faisait froid. Toi qui m'a donné du feu quand Les croquantes et les croquants Tous les gens bien intentionnés M'avaient fermés la porte au nez. Ce n'était rien qu'un feu de bois Mais il m'avait chauffé le corps Et dans mon âme, il brûle encore À la manière d'un feu de joie... Toi, l'Auvergnat quand tu mourras Quand le croc-mort t'emportera Qu'il te conduise à travers ciel Au père éternel. Elle est à toi cette chanson Toi l'hôtesse qui, sans façon, M'a donné quatre bouts de pain Quand dans ma vie il faisait faim. Toi qui m'ouvrit ta huche quand Les croquantes et les croquants Tous les gens bien intentionnés S'amusaient à me voir jeuner. Ce n'était rien qu'un peu de pain Mais il m'avait chauffé le corps Et dans mon âme, il brûle encore À la manière d'un grand festin... Toi, l'hôtesse quand tu mourras
Quand le
croc-mort t'emportera
Qu'il te conduise à travers ciel Au père éternel. Elle est à toi cette chanson Toi l'étranger qui, sans façon, D'un air malheureux m'a sourit Lorsque les gendarmes m'ont pris. Toi qui n'a pas applaudi quand Les croquantes et les croquants Tous les gens bien intentionnés Riaient de me voir rammené. Ce n'était rien qu'un peu de miel Mais il m'avait chauffé le corps Et dans mon âme, il brûle encore À la manière d'un grand soleil... Toi, l'étranger quand tu mourras Quand le croc-mort t'emportera Qu'il te conduise à travers ciel To God eternal. |
Song
for the man from the Auvergne
It is for you this little song
Man of Auvergne who without fuss,
Once gave to me four bits of wood
When in my life there was real cold.
You who gave fire to warm me when
Staid members of the upper crust
All the people with good intent
Had slammed their doors shut in my
face.
It was merely a fire of sticks
But it had warmed my body through
And in my soul it burns on still
In the way a bonfire would do.
You man from Auvergne, when you die
When the mortician bears you off
May he take you across heaven,
To the God
everlasting.
It is for you this little song
You the hostess who, without fuss,
Once gave to me four bits of bread
When in my life there was hunger .
You who opened your larder when
Staid members of the upper crust
All the people with good intent
Enjoyed seeing me go without.
It was merely a bit of bread
But it had warmed my body through
And in my soul, it burns on still
In the way a great feast would do.
You, the hostess, when you will die
When the mortician bears you off,
May he take you across heaven,
To God everlasting.
It is for you this little song
You, the stranger, who, without fuss,
Looking dejected, smiled at me,
When the policemen took me off.
You who didn’t join the applause when
Staid members of the upper crust
All the people with good intent
Laughed to see me be led away.
T'was merely a touch of honey
But it had warmed my body through
And in my soul it burns on still
In the way bright sunshine would do
...
You, the stranger, when you will die
When the mortician bears you off
May he take you across heaven,
To God
everlasting.
|
TRANSLATION NOTE
(1) Les Croquants - Le Petit Robert dictionary tells us that « les croquants » were peasants who rose in revolt during the reigns of Henri IV and Louis XIII. It says that the word then took on the meaning of peasants and is sometimes used with sense of thief or skinflint. Since working on Brassens’ song “Les Croquants”, I have formed the idea that the word is a pejorative for someone who arouses your strong hostility just as we say: “the bastards!” and the reason for the hostility depends on the context. In this case, I think Brassens found his respectable neighbours superior and judgemental.
A BRIEF BIOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY
If the song suggests that acts of friendship are rare, this would certainly not represent the life of Georges Brassens. He had a unique gift of friendship. In March 1943, he was conscripted to a German work camp at Basdorf. The friends he made there were his friends for life. Among them was a particularly close friend, Pierre Onténiente.When Brassens returned to Paris on leave in March 1944, he went into hiding, sheltered by a married couple, Marcel and Jeanne Planche, who lived in a slum house in Paris. They were to play a big part in his life. Brassens' temporary stay in this insalubrious quartier extended until 1966.
The Auvergnat who is thanked in this song is Marcel Planche and the hostess who served him his food is Jeanne. He wrote other songs for Jeanne, the most famous are "Jeanne" and “La cane de Jeanne”. I suspect too that Jeanne was the real heroine of his song "La femme d'Hector"
She was an inveterate animal lover.
Jeanne was Brassens’ mother and companion. But there was a stronger emotional tie. Speaking long after the death of Brassens, Pierre Onténiente, confided that Jeanne was in love with Georges and was jealous about him. Marcel was either indifferent or unaware, as his habit was to start to get drunk from eight in the morning
It was a great loss for Brassens when Jeanne died in 1968.
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Anonymous said...
Thank you for the translations. I was looking for a translation of "Chanson Pour L'Auvergnat" when I found your site. I first heard the song performed by Cornelis Vreeswijk (Dutch-Swedish artist resembling and inspired by Brassens) with a very different text, "Alice's Snaps", in Swedish. In fact I thought it was Brassens who had copied him when I heard "Chanson Pour L'Auvergnat" first time on the radio. You migth be intereseted in checking Vreeswijk out, some songs on youtube although I don't find "Alice's Snaps" there. His texts are all in Swedish, I think, unfortunately for non-Swedish speakers.
Have a nice Easter,
Morten
22 MARCH 2008 14:29
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