Charles Trenet ("Le Fou Chantant")
"Petit village...vieux clocher"
|
Ce soir le vent qui frappe á ma porte Me parle des amours mortes Devant le feu qui s' éteint. Ce soir c'est une chanson d' automne Dans la maison qui frissonne Et je pense aux jours lointains. Que reste-t-il de nos amours? Que reste-t-il de ces beaux jours? Une photo, vieille photo De ma jeunesse. Que reste-t-il des billets doux Des mois d'avril, des rendez-vous Un souvenir qui me poursuit Sans cesse. Bonheur fané, cheveux au vent Baisers volés, rêves mouvants Que reste-t-il de tout cela? Dites-le-moi. Un petit village, un vieux clocher Un paysage si bien caché Et dans un nuage le cher visage De mon passé. Les mots, les mots tendres qu'on murmure Les caresses les plus pures Les serments au fond des bois Les fleurs qu'on retrouve dans un livre Dont le parfum vous enivre Se sont envolés pourquoi? Que reste-t-il de nos amours? Que reste-t-il de ces beaux jours? Une photo, vieille photo De ma jeunesse. Que reste-t-il des billets doux, Des mois d' avril, des rendez-vous Un souvenir qui me poursuit Sans cesse Bonheur fané, cheveux au vent, Baisers volés, rêves mouvants. Que reste-t-il de tout cela ? Dites-le-moi. Un petit village, un vieux clocher, Un paysage si bien caché, Et dans un nuage le cher visage De mon passé. |
Tonight the wind that knocks at my door Speaks to me of past loves Before the waning fire. Tonight it’s an Autumn song In the shivering house And I recall days gone by. What remains of our loves? What remains of these beautiful days? A photo, old photo Of my youth. What remains of the love letters Of April months, of meetings A memory that pursues me Ceaselessly. Faded happiness, hair in the wind Stolen kisses, moving dreams What remains of all that? Tell me. A small village, an old bell tower A well-hidden countryside And in a cloud the cherished image Of my past. The words, the tender words one murmurs The purest caresses The vows made deep in the woods The flowers one recovers in a book With their intoxicating perfume Why have they flown away? What remains of our loves? What remains of these beautiful days? A photo, old photo Of my youth. What remains of the love letters, Of April months, of meetings A memory that follows me Ceaselessly. Faded happiness, hair in the wind Stolen kisses, moving dreams What remains of all that? Tell me. A small village, an old bell tower A well-hidden countryside And in a cloud the cherished image Of my past. |
Keely Smith
|
Intro Goodbye, no use leading with our chins, This is where our story ends Never lovers ever friends Goodbye, let our hearts call it a day, But before you walk away I sincerely want to say Verse 1 I wish you bluebirds in the spring To give your heart a song to sing And then a kiss, but more than this I wish you love Verse 2 And in July a lemonade To cool you in some leafy glade I wish you health, and more than wealth I wish you love |
Bridge My breaking heart and I agree That you and I could never be So, with my best, my very best I set you free Chorus 1 I wish you shelter from the storm A cozy fire to keep you warm But most of all, when snowflakes fall I wish you love Instrumental Interlude Chorus 2 I wish you shelter from the storm A cozy fire to keep you warm But most of all, when snowflakes fall But most of all, when snowflakes fall I wish you love, love, love |