Vénus callipyge - Brassens joins the Ancient Greeks in praise of a well-rounded bottom

Vénus callipyge

This song was inspired by the famous ancient sculpture, the Venus Kallipygos, picture left , which is now in the Royal Museum in Naples. It is a marble statuette, just under 6 inches in height. It was found in Rome but became the property of the king of Naples. The worship of this Venus had been widespread in Ancient Greece and then had spread to Italy. The word Kallipygos is formed by an adjective, Κάλλος, which means beautiful and a noun πυγὴ, which means bum.

No doubt for reason of modesty, this ancient work of art it is always catalogued  using the Greek title (Callipyge). Brassens, however, does not suffer from any such reticence. He makes absolutely clear the part of the anatomy that he is glorifying. He mentions this aesthetic preference in some of his other songs

Que jamais l'art abstrait, qui sévit maintenant, N'enlève à vos attraits ce volume étonnant. Au temps où les faux-culs (1) sont la majorité, Gloire à celui qui dit toute la vérité !. Votre dos perd son nom(2) avec si bonne grâce, Qu'on ne peut s'empêcher de lui donner raison. Que ne suis-je, (3) Madame, un poète de race, Pour dire à sa louange un immortel blason. (4) En le voyant passer, j'en eus la chair de poule,(5) Enfin, je vins au monde et, depuis, je lui voue Un culte (6) véritable et, quand je perds aux boules, En embrassant Fanny(7), je ne pense qu'à vous.  Pour obtenir, Madame, un galbe de cet ordre, Vous devez torturer les gens de votre entour, Donner aux couturiers bien du fil à retordre(8), Et vous devez crever votre dame d'atour. C'est (9) le Duc de Bordeaux qui s'en va, tête basse, Car il ressemble au mien comme deux gouttes d'eau, S'il ressemblait au vôtre on dirait, quand il passe : "C'est un joli garçon que le Duc de Bordeaux !"(10) Ne faites aucun cas des jaloux qui professent Que vous avez placé votre orgueil un peu bas Que vous présumez trop, en somme de vos fesses Et surtout, par faveur, ne vous asseyez pas ! Laissez-les raconter qu'en sortant de calèche (11) La brise a fait voler votre robe et qu'on vit, Écrite dans un cœur transpercé d'une flèche, Cette expression triviale : "À Julot pour la vie"  Laissez-les dire encor’ is hard qu'à la Cour d'Angleterre, Faisant la révérence aux souverains anglois, Vous êtes, patatras ! Tombée assise à terre : La loi d' la pesanteur est dure, mais c'est la loi. Nul ne peut aujourd'hui trépasser sans voir Naples, (12) À l'assaut des chefs-d’œuvre ils veulent tous courir! Mes ambitions à moi sont bien plus raisonnables : Voir votre académie, madame, et puis mourir.  Que jamais l'art abstrait, qui sévit maintenant, N'enlève à vos attraits ce volume étonnant.  Au temps où les faux-culs (1) sont la majorité, Gloire à celui qui dit toute la vérité ! Georges Brassens (1964 - Les copains d'abord, )

May never abstract art, all the rage right now Rob your female charms of that stunning dimension. At a time when fake bums form the majority Glory to the one that tells us the complete truth Your back loses its name with such consummate grace, That one cannot help but come out in its favour. Aren’t I the one, Madame, as poet born and bred To say in its praise a short ode immortal? Just seeing you go by, it gave me goose pimples At last, I was come alive and since then I’ve offered It true veneration so when I lose at bowls And when “kissing Fanny”, (7) I think only of you. For you to get, Madame, a contour of that order You must put great strain on the people around you, You must give dressmakers loads of work sewing And you must work to death your lady in waiting. It’s the Duke of Bordeaux who runs off, head bowed For his likeness to mine is as peas in a pod If he resembled yours they’d say when he passes “He’s a right handsome fellow the Duke of Bordeaux.” Pay no respect to those jealous who profess That you placed your pride a little low at the back That you presume too much in effect of your bum Above all though, kindly please do not take a seat. Leave them to tell the tale that stepping from your coach The breeze blew your dress up so high that people saw Written inside a heart pierced by an arrow These words simple and clear: “To my love, Jules, for life.” Let them tell also that while at Court in England Making a deep curtsy to the British sovereigns You fell with a wallop, with your seat on the ground Hard is the law of gravity but laws are laws. No-one can die these days without seeing Naples We all want to join the charge for great works of art! The ambitions I have make very much more sense To see your nude statue my lady and then die. May never abstract art, all the rage right now, Rob your female charms of that stunning dimension. At a time when fake bums form the majority Glory to the one that tells us the complete truth.

TRANSLATION NOTES 

1) Brassens makes a play on words: faux-cul means false arse. The nearest word I found in the dictionary was faux col – false collar which in English translates “loose collar”. .

2) Votre dos perd son nom – Halfway down the back is no longer the back but the bottom. Out of delicacy some people may refer to it as the lower back.

3) Que ne suis-je ? (3) Que followed by ne in a question or an exclamation is usually translated by “why”. E.g.: “Que n’est-tu allé la voir?.. In the end I chose a more literal translation.

4) A blazon is a short verse which gives a list – for example of the features of the person you love

5) j'en eus la chair de poule – I got goose pimples.

6) Un culte. Brassens is amused to be talking about a cult dedicated to a cul. Such puns have to be abandoned in translation.

8) Donner du fil a retordre means to give s.o. a lot of hard work.  In French this gives a pun about sewing.

7) En embrassant Fanny- It is explaned that there is a tradition, when playing bowls, that any player who fails to score a single point in a game has to ceremoniously kiss the bum of Fanny on a picture or a sculpture. Brassens associates this mischievously with the Christian faith, where the priest may sometimes present a religious icon to kiss, by talking about his own new “cult”. In fact that part of the sculpture in Naples has become slightly discoloured by furtive kisses, achieved in spite of the close supervision.

9) C'est….. This phrase doesn’t fit in grammatically, but it is like a performer warning the audience that he is in the groove so hold on to their hats – like a comic saying : »Did you hear about……. Something scandalous is coming up.

10) Mentioning the Duke of Bordeaux is a technique of making an insult or compliment by very indirect comparison

The idea comes from a traditional French song.    This is the verse to which Brassens is referring:

Le Duc de Bordeaux ressemble à son frère,
Son frère à son père et son père à mon cul.
De là je conclus qu’le Duc de Bordeaux
Ressemble à mon cul comme deux gouttes d’eau.

11) Calèche – A fashionable carriage drawn by a pair of horses.

12) The tourism slogan, of course is: “See Naples and die”

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Supplique pour être enterré à la plage de Sète

This one of Brassens’ most entertaining poems- in spite of the gloomy title.
Paul Valéry, a highly respected man of letters of the previous generation, born also in Brassens’ home town of Sète, had written a famous poem called “Le cimetière marin”. Brassens gives an alternative viewpoint to Valéry’s symbolist vision of a seaside graveyard, as he writes with wit, imagination and nostalgia about the more down-to-earth realities of his birthplace and the love, friendship and enjoyment he had found there.

Supplique pour être enterré à la plage de Sète
Plea to be buried on the beach at Sète (1)

La Camarde, qui ne m'a jamais pardonné (2)  D'avoir semé des fleurs dans les trous de son nez, Me poursuit d'un zèle imbécile. Alors cerné de près par les enterrements, J'ai cru bon de remettre à jour mon testament, De me payer un codicille.   Trempe dans l'encre bleue du Golfe du Lion, Trempe, trempe ta plume, ô mon vieux tabellion, Et, de ta plus belle écriture, Note ce qu'il faudrait qu'il advînt de mon corps, Lorsque mon âme et lui ne seront plus d'accord Que sur un seul point : la rupture. Quand mon âme aura pris son vol à l'horizon Vers celles de Gavroche et de Mimi Pinson, (5) Celles des titis, des grisettes, Que vers le sol natal mon corps soit ramené Dans un sleeping du "Paris-Méditerranée" (6) Terminus en gare de Sète. Mon caveau de famille, hélas, n'est pas tout neuf. Vulgairement parlant il est plein comme un œuf (7) Et, d'ici que quelqu'un n'en sorte, Il risque de se faire tard et je ne peux Dire à ces braves gens:"Poussez-vous donc un peu ! Place aux jeunes !"(8) en quelque sorte. Juste au bord de la mer, à deux pas des flots bleus, Creusez, si c'est possible, un petit trou moelleux, Une bonne petite niche, Auprès de mes amis d'enfance, les dauphins (9) Le long de cette grève où le sable est si fin, Sur la plage de la Corniche. (10) C'est une plage ou même, à ses moments furieux, Neptune ne se prend jamais trop au sérieux, Où, quand un bateau fait naufrage, Le capitaine crie : "Je suis le maître à bord ! (11) Sauve qui peut ! Le vin et le pastis d'abord ! Chacun sa bonbonne et courage !" (12) Et c'est là que jadis, à quinze ans révolus À l'âge où s'amuser tout seul ne suffit plus Je connus la prime amourette.. Auprès d'une sirène, une femme-poisson, Je reçus de l'amour la première leçon,  Avalai la première arête. (13) Déférence gardée envers Paul Valéry, (14) Moi, l'humble troubadour, sur lui je renchéris, Le bon maître me le pardonne, Et qu'au moins, si ses vers valent mieux que les miens, Mon cimetière soit plus marin que le sien, Et n'en déplaise aux autochtones. Cette tombe en sandwich entre le ciel et l'eau, Ne donnera pas une ombre triste au tableau, Mais un charme indéfinissable. Les baigneuses s'en serviront de paravent Pour changer de tenue, et les petits enfants Diront : "Chouette, un château de sable !" Est-ce trop demander...? Sur mon petit lopin Plantez, je vous en prie, une espèce de pin Pin parasol, de préférence, Qui saura prémunir contre l'insolation Les bons amis venus fair' sur ma concession D'affectueuses révérences. Tantôt venant d'Espagne, et tantôt d'Italie, Tout chargés de parfums, de musiques jolies, Le mistral et la tramontane (16) Sur mon dernier sommeil verseront les échos De villanelle un jour, un jour de fandango, De tarantelle, de sardane... Et quand, prenant ma butte en guise d'oreiller, Une ondine viendra gentiment sommeiller Avec moins que rien de costume, J'en demande pardon par avance à Jésus, Si l'ombre de ma croix s'y couche un peu dessus Pour un petit bonheur posthume. Pauvres rois pharaons ! Pauvre Napoléon ! Pauvres grands disparus gisant au Panthéon ! Pauvres cendres de conséquence ! Vous envierez un peu l'éternel estivant, Qui fait du pédalo sur la vague en rêvant, Qui passe sa mort en vacances... Vous envierez un peu l'éternel estivant, Qui fait du pédalo sur la vague en rêvant, Qui passe sa mort en vacances... Georges Brassens 1966 - Supplique pour être enterré à la plage de Sète

The Grim Reaper, who has never forgiven me For sowing flowers in the sockets of his nose (3)  Pursues me with the craziest zeal. And so, hemmed in close by funerals (4) I thought right to bring back up to date my last will To pay out for a codicil Dip well in the blue ink of the Gulf of Lion, Dip well, dip well your quill, oh my old legal scribe And then in your finest handwriting, Note what there would have to become of my body When my soul and it are no longer in accord Save on one sole point: the split-up. When my soul has taken its flight to the sunset Towards those of Gavroche and of Mimi Pinson Those of urchins and common tarts Let my body be brought to the soil of my birth In a sleeper on "Paris-Méditerranée" Terminus at Sète station. My own family tomb, alas, is not brand new. It's, in vulgar parlance, packed like a sardine tin And failing that someone might get out I risk getting there late and will not be able To say to these good folk: “Move up then just a bit! Give way to young ones!” or some such thing Right up on the sea shore, two yards from waves of blue, Dig out, if it’s possible, a little comfy hole  A nice and smallish niche Next to the friends of my childhood, the dolphins, Along that stretch of beach, where the sand is so fine On the Plage de la Corniche. It’s a beach where even, in his moments of rage Neptune doesn’t come on too heavily Where at the shipwreck of his boat The captain bellows forth: “I’m the master of this ship! Each for himself! The wine and the pastis go first Each take his demi-john and chins up …” It was there in the past, at fifteen years of age At an age when lonely pleasure was not enough  I had my first little taste of love From a little siren, a sea dwelling mermaid I got my first lesson about the rules of love Humbly learnt where you are made to stop. With all deference due towards Paul Valéry, I, humble troubadour, can go one up on him May the good master please excuse me And if his verse is placed higher than mine, at least Let my cemetery be nearer the sea than his And who cares about the Autochtones.(15) This tomb sandwiched between the sky and water  Will not cast a gloomy shadow on the picture But add an indefinable charm. Female bathers will come to use it as a screen In order to get changed, and the little children Will say: “Oh, Brilliant. Look a sand castle!” Is it too much to ask… ? Upon my little plot Please plant for me, a tree, a species such as pine Umbrella pine, preferably That’s able to protect from the risk of sunburn Those good friends who have come upon my resting place To lower their heads in fond regard. Sometimes coming from Spain, sometimes from Italy All laden with perfumes, with prettiest music The mistral and the tramontana Upon my final sleep will pour forth the echos Of villanelle one day, one day of fandango, Of tarantella, of sardana…. And when, taking my mound as a kind of pillow A fair nymph from the sea, should kindly come to sleep With close to nothing on as swimwear, I am asking pardon well in advance from Jesus If the shade of my cross lies for a while on top For a spot of posthumous bliss. Poor Pharaoh kings ! Poor Napoleon ! Poor departed greats, lying at the Pantheon Poor ashes of consequence! You’ll half envy th’eternal holiday-maker Who dreams as he rides his pedalo on the waves Who spends his death on vacation…. You’ll half envy th’eternal holiday-maker Who dreams as he rides his pedalo on the waves Who spends his death on vacation….

 TRANSLATION NOTES

1) Brassens did not intend his petition to be buried on the beach too seriously. He once said he was only having fun with the idea. The tone of the poem verifies it.

2) Five lines of each verse use the 12 syllable “alexandrine” of French Classical poetry

3) semé des fleurs –The dictionary says that “semer des fleurs sur la tombe de quelqu’un” means to turn someone’s memory into a cult. Brassens is rightly acknowledging that he goes on quite a lot about death in his songs. It has to be admitted that he did have a morbid streak.  “The Grim Reaper”, our personification of death, is depicted with a dead skull with empty sockets for the nose and eyes. In French the personification of death is called La Camarde for this same reason. Camard is an adjective which means pug-nosed, having a flat nose, as if crushed –like the nose of an old-time boxer.

4) cerné de près par les enterrements- "Supplique pour être enterré à la plage de Sète" was written in 1966. In the previous year, Brassens lost his father on the 28th March and Marcel Planche, Jeanne’s husband, died on the 7th May.

5) Gavroche - Mimi Pinson. Gavroche is a cheeky, rebellious young street urchin in the novel, “Les Misérables” by Victor Hugo. Mimi Pinson is a character in a work called “Mimi Pinson, profil de grisette" by the famous French poet, Alfred de Musset. A grisette is a young, sexually easy-going, working class girl. Both of these fictitious characters liked to express themselves in song. With such company Brassens’ soul would be in heaven.

6) Paris-Méditerranée A train for holiday destinations.

7) il est plein comme un œuf – Brassens says the tomb was full as an egg. I had not met this expression in English but on looking it up, I find that it is in use. As I am not certain of the context in which “full as an egg” is used in English, I have substituted the most common image in English for being packed together.

8) Place aux jeunes. Perhaps this incongruous remark in the society of the dead can be interpreted as a disdainful Brassens’ reference to the call made to the older performers with the advent of the teenage pop groups of the 1960s. See “Les Trompettes de la Renommée”.

9) les dauphins – This was the name given to the swimming club at Sète when Brassens was a boy. We can assume that the girl he is to recall in the next verse is also a keen swimmer.

10) La plage de la Corniche is a very popular beach at Sète

11) The picture of life on a happy, boozy ship, with the odd nautical crisis, is reminiscent of Brassens’ memories of boating with his mates in “Les copains d’abord”.

12) la première arête. There is a pun on “arête » which means fishbone and “Arrête!”, meaning stop. The fishbone is mentioned because the girl is mermaid and thus half fish. The image seems a bit contrived and is certainly impossible to translate. This is my tentative suggestion, but I regret that an explanation needs to replace the teasing puzzle that Brassens had left us with..

13) Chacun sa bonbonne et courage -I have translated this as a play on words. The "bon" in "bonbonne" also goes before "courage". Although the captain may make pretence of being in complete control, when the boat is sinking all he can say in the end is "bon courage" - hope for the best.

14) Paul Valéry (1871-1945) was a famous poet, critic and essayist. “Cimetière Marin” was the title of one of his most famous poems. He was born in Sètes and buried there in the Cimetière St Charles. In the following year, 1946, the dignitaries changed its name to the “Cimetière Marin” in homage to him.

15) “autochtones » These are the important men of the town, who had decreed that Valéry’s graveyard was the “cimetière marin” –whose authority Brassens is undermining! Brassens, the outsider, certainly did not identify with them.

16) Le mistral et la tramontane -These are two winds that blow over the South of France. One seems to come from the West, the other from the East.

17) villanelle and tarantella - sardane and fandango This is the music of song and dance, blown in from opposite directions from Italy and Spain.

The town of Sète

Sète is the largest French fishing port on the Mediterranean , with tunny fishing boats and trawlers harboured there. Behind Sète is a large coastal lagoon called the étang de Thau where shellfish are cultivated.

Where Brassens was buried.

Brassens was not buried on the beach at Sète, but he would not have expected it as he was only joking. He was not buried with the worthy middle class and Paul Valéry in the cimetière Saint Charles, the so-called cimetière marin, but in the cimetière Le Py, from where can be seen the inland sea of l’étang de Thau. This second cemetery of Sète is known as the cimetière des pauvres , but it should not be assumed from this that the highly successful Brassens had a pauper’s funeral. It is reported that there is a pine tree near his grave, but that it had difficulty in establishing itself because of being trampled by the number of people who come to visit his grave.

If any holiday maker in a skimpy bikini comes to his grave, the only sensation she is likely to have is a mysterious sharp stabbing feeling. When she died in 1999, Brassens' long-time companion, Joha Heiman, his « Püppchen », was buried at his side in the cemetery at Sète. His song, “Je me suis fait tout petit”, describes how she used her umbrella to ward off any seductress, seeking to offer Brassens the sexual consolation, which she was not prepared to offer him.

The contrast of Paul Valéry’s picture of a graveyard near the sea

These are the first two verses of Paul Valéry’s symbolist poem
Ce toit tranquille, où marchent des colombes,
This quiet roof, on which doves walk about
Entre les pins palpite, entre les tombes;
Between the pines vibrates, between the tombs
Midi le juste y compose de feux
Midday the exact composes upon it some lights.
La mer, la mer, toujours recommencee
The sea, the sea, always restarting anew
O récompense après une pensée
Oh recompense after thinking
Qu'un long regard sur le calme des dieux!
Than a long look upon the calm of the gods.

Quel pur travail de fins éclairs consume
What fine work of fine flashes of light consumes
Maint diamant d'imperceptible écume,
Many a diamond of imperceptible foam
Et quelle paix semble se concevoir!
And what peace seems to be conceived
Quand sur l'abîme un soleil se repose,
When on theabyss a sun comes to rest
Ouvrages purs d'une éternelle cause,
Pure works of an eternal cause
Le temps scintille et le songe est savoir
Time flickers and dreaming is to know

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Putain de Toi - In his years of poverty, the hurt he felt when his teenage lover betrayed him so lightly

Some of Brassens’ biographers talk of a girl called Jo, with whom Brassens had a passionate relationship from June 1945 until August 1946. They tell us that Jo was only seventeen when she made her dramatic entry into his life - in the song Brassens talks of her twenty years but that will be poetic licence.   He had to be careful not to be caught by his mistress, Jeanne, in whose house he was living in the Impasse Florimont.   Jo was stunning to look at and totally amoral. Brassens’ bohemian character was attracted by her devil-may-care attitude to life and the liberality of her love. Unfortunately the irresponsibility, which was amusing when applied to the society around them, became unacceptable within a personal relationship and she brought a lot of turmoil into his life. This led to the break-up.

As in “Une Jolie Fleur”, the poet feels the need to insult his former girl-friend – in this case notably by his choice of title. He is blaming a young,spontaneous girl for what she is and what he had always known her to be. Men at times can be pathetic!

There are other similarities between “Putain de Toi” and “Une Jolie Fleur”, and it could be that both poems refer to the same girl. In both, Brassens certainly betrays his sense of hurt and disappointment over this girl (or these girls).

Putain(1) de toi En ce temps-là, je vivais dans la lune(2) Les bonheurs d'ici-bas m'étaient tous défendus Je semais des violettes et chantais pour des prunes Et tendais la patte aux chats perdus  Ah ah ah ah! putain de toi! Ah ah ah ah ah! pauvre de moi... Un soir de pluie, v'là qu'on gratte à ma porte Je m'empresse d'ouvrir, sans doute un nouveau chat ! Nom de Dieu, l' beau félin(3)... que l'orage m'apporte C'était toi, c'était toi, c'était toi... Ah ah ah ah! putain de toi! Ah ah ah ah ah! pauvre de moi... Les yeux fendus et couleur de pistache (4) T'as posé sur mon coeur ta patte de velours(6) Fort heureus'ment pour moi t'avais pas de moustache Et ta vertu ne pesait pas trop lourd... Ah ah ah ah! putain de toi! Ah ah ah ah ah! pauvre de moi... Aux quatre coins de ma vie de bohème T'as prom'né, t'as prom'né le feu de tes vingt ans Et pour moi, pour mes chats, pour mes fleurs, mes poèmes C'était toi la pluie et le beau temps... Ah ah ah ah! putain de toi! Ah ah ah ah ah! pauvre de moi... Mais le temps passe et fauche à l'aveuglette Notre amour mûrissait à peine que déjà, Tu brûlais mes chansons, crachais sur mes violettes, Et faisais des misèr's à mes chats... Ah ah ah ah! putain de toi! Ah ah ah ah ah! pauvre de moi... Le comble enfin, misérable salope, Comme il n' restait plus rien dans le garde-manger, T'as couru sans vergogne, et pour une escalope, Te jeter dans le lit du boucher ! Ah ah ah ah! putain de toi! Ah ah ah ah ah! pauvre de moi... C'était fini, t'avais passé les bornes Et, r'nonçant aux amours frivoles d'ici-bas, J' suis r'monté dans la lune en emportant mes cornes, Mes chansons, et mes fleurs, et mes chats... Ah ah ah ah! putain de toi! Ah ah ah ah ah! pauvre de moi... Album 1953 - Les amoureux des bancs publics.

In those days, I was living on the moon The joys down here below for me were forbidden I used to sow violets and sing for peanuts And held out my paw to welcome lost cats. Ah ah ah ah ! tramp that you are! Ah ah ah ah ah! poor sucker  me! One rainy night, there’s scratching at my door I rush to open it, no doubt another cat ! Heavens! the cute feline that the storm brings to me It was you, it was you, it was you Ah ah ah ah ! tramp that you are! Ah ah ah ah ah! poor sucker  me! With almond shaped eyes pistachio green You placed on my heart your paw, with claws not on view Very luckily for me you did not have whiskers And your virtue did not weigh too heavy. Ah ah ah ah ! tramp that you are! Ah ah ah ah ah! poor sucker  me! To ev’ry inch of my bohemian  life You trailed, you trailed all the fire of your twenty years And for me, for my cats, for my flowers, my poems T’was you the rain and the fine weather. Ah ah ah ah ! tramp that you are! Ah ah ah ah ah! poor sucker  me! But time passes and reaps willy nilly Our love was scarcely ripe when you already Were burning my songs, spitting on my violets And making my cats’ lives a misery. Ah ah ah ah ! tramp that you are! Ah ah ah ah ah! poor sucker  me! Finally the last straw, miserable tart Since there was nothing left to eat in the pantry Without any shame you ran, and for a beef steak You jumped into bed with the butcher. Ah ah ah ah ! tramp that you are! Ah ah ah ah ah! poor sucker  me! It was over, you’d overstepped the mark And, shunning frivolous loves down below I climbed back on the moon, taking my cuckold’s horns All my  songs, and my flowers, and my cats. Ah ah ah ah ! tramp that you are! Ah ah ah ah ah! poor sucker  me!

 TRANSLATION NOTES

1) Putain de toi: “Putain” is an impolite word used to describe a prostitute. It is used, however also as a derogatory word for females who have no connection with the sex trade, where the abusive word in English would be “bitch”, “cow” etc.
Putain is also used with “de” as here to swear at some-one or something – e.g. “Éteins cette putain de lumière” = “Put out that bloody light!”
Thus in the translation of “Putain de toi”, we can stick with straight swearing saying “You bloody thing”.  However Brassens thinks she has done many bad things and we should perhaps pick out a more specific idea from “Putain”, saying “Bitch that you are”or to refer to her low morals by saying ”Whore that you are”

2) « je vivais dans la lune ». Brassens talks about these days in « Auprès de mon Arbre ». He lived, under the care and eye of Jeanne, in theory at least, cut off from the world in a dilapidated attic, where there were gaps in the masonry that allowed him to live with the moon and the stars.


3) Le beau félin - Some of the felines whom Brassens welcomed during his bohemian days were indeed human. From « Auprès de mon Arbre » we learn that in those carefree days a number of different girls slipped in to pass the night with him. Apparently he was as cut off he sometimes claimed!

4) “couleur de pistache ». The noun means pistachio nut and the adjective describes a soft shade of green

5) patte de velours » - As in the English “velvet paws”, the meaning is “paws with claws retracted”.

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