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As viandantes
(Letra, 2008 Valentin)
(Adaptação músical, Valentin)
Dedico um poema de amor,
Com perfume suave de flor
Para cada namorada
Àquela já desconhecida,
A quem o destino decida
Outra via, outra morada.
Àquela moça muito bela,
Que se vê à sua janela
E que sai com precaução
Portanto a tal silhueta,
Tão graciosa e esbelta
Dá beleza no coração.
À companheira de viagem,
Maravilha da paisagem
É bem curto o caminho
Não encontrarei outra rosa,
Nem outra pedra preciosa
Ficarei sempre sozinho.
Àquela que já tem marido,
No convívio tão dolorido
Por causa da diferença
Qual foi a inútil loucura,
Que lhe deu essa amargura
Num porvir sem esperança. Rica ideia avistada,
Paixão da noite passada
Amanhã será perdida
Num dia de felicidade,
Ignora-se a dificuldade
Da hora da despedida.
Mas quando a vida corre mal,
Conserva toda a força moral
Não será fatalidade
Há sempre uma bela
Para beijar,
Um coração para te amar
Um desejo, uma saudade.
Chegando à noite a solidão,
Ficando com muita emoção
Valerá a pena chorar
Por causa destas viandantes,
E dos beijinhos abrasantes
Que nunca pudemos roubar. | Les passantes
(Texte origine, Antoine Pol)
(Musique origine, Georges Brassens) Je veux dédier ce poème
A toutes les femmes qu'on aime
Pendant quelques instants secrets
A celles qu'on connaît à peine
Qu'un destin différent entraîne
Et qu'on ne retrouve jamais.
A celle qu'on voit apparaître
Une seconde à sa fenêtre
Et qui, preste, s'évanouit
Mais dont la svelte silhouette
Est si gracieuse et fluette
Qu'on en demeure épanoui.
A la compagne de voyage
Dont les yeux, charmant paysage
Font paraître court le chemin
Qu'on est seul, peut-être, à comprendre
Et qu'on laisse pourtant descendre
Sans avoir effleuré sa main.
A celles qui sont déjà prises
Et qui, vivant des heures grises
Près d'un être trop différent
Vous ont, inutile folie,
Laissé voir la mélancolie
D'un avenir désespérant.
Chères images aperçues
Espérances d'un jour déçues
Vous serez dans l'oubli demain
Pour peu que le bonheur survienne
Il est rare qu'on se souvienne
Des épisodes du chemin.
Mais si l'on a manqué sa vie
On songe avec un peu d'envie
A tous ces bonheurs entrevus
Aux baisers qu'on n'osa pas prendre
Aux cœurs qui doivent vous attendre
Aux yeux qu'on n'a jamais revus.
Alors, aux soirs de lassitude
Tout en peuplant sa solitude
Des fantômes du souvenir
On pleure les lèvres absentes
De toutes ces belles passantes
Que l'on n'a pas su retenir |
The passer-by
(Text origin, Antoine Pol)
(Music origin, Georges Brassens)
I wish to dedicate this poem
To all of the women that one loves
During a few secret moments
To those whose acquaintance is fleeting
Whom a different fate draws away
And whom one never meets again.
To the one whom you saw appear
For a brief second at her window
And who, straightway, is lost from sight
And yet of whom the sleek silhouette
Is traced so graceful and so slender
That you remain filled with her glow.
To the lady travelling with you
Whose eyes, a view of total charm
Make the journey seem soon over
Whom you alone might understand
And yet whom you allow to alight
Without the mere touch of her hand.
To those who are already taken
And who, living tedious hours
Next to someone too different
Have let you , act of pointless folly
Observe the profound melancholy
Of a future deprived of hope.
Treasured images only half seen
Disappointed hopes of just one day
Tomorrow you will be erased
Should happiness chance to come along
It is a rarity that one recalls
Small incidents on the way.
But if you have missed out in your life
You dream with some feelings of envy,
Of all these small joys briefly seen
Of the kisses you didn’t dare take
Of the hearts which have to await you
Of eyes that were not seen again.
And so, when evenings are weary
While you populate your loneliness
With the phantoms of your memory
You weep for the lips that are absent
Of all those fair ladies who passed by
Whom you had not the wit to keep.
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