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27 mai 2016

Best French Pop Songs' ! -Part 4 (ARTIST : FRANCIS CABREL) /FAVORITE FOR EVER (Normal I 'm a fan) ----20 SONGS for the moment ;)

francis-cabrel-13793

 B1sur J'aime ts les chanteur que je présente sur ce blog mais celui-ci c particulier. Je l'aime je l'aime je laime ! Il est mon Tino Rossi des temps moderne, notre troubadour national, 1 mélodist et parolier incroyable , bref mon idol quoi ! Il a bercé mon enfance et nourri mes rêves o moyen de chansons inoubliables. (Dame d'un soir, Pleure pas petite sirène, je t'aimais je t'aime et je t'aimerais, Samedi soir sur la terre)

Au vu de ttes ses chansons tubesk, g été contrainte de procéder par ordre chronologique afin de ne pas en oublier 1 seule ! Et de vous les faire découvrir, en ne doutant pas que vous deviendrez vous aussi des fans !

Signé Casanovane -fan de Cabrel pour toujours !

Of course I like all the singers that I present on this blog but this one is special .
I love him I love him I love him ! He is my Tino Rossi of modern times, our national
troubadour , an incredible melodist and lyricist, brief my idol !

He rocked my childhood and nurtured my dreams through unforgettable songs.
('One-Night lady', Don't Cry Little Mermaid , I loved I love and I'll love you ,
a Saturday night on earth ) In view of all his tubes
, I was forced to proceed in chronological order to not forget one single !
Not doubting that you will become also fans!

Signed Casanovane -Fan of Cabrel forever!

Francis Cabrel - Petite Marie - une vidéo Music.mp4

Little Mary

Little Mary, I talk about you
'cause with your little tiny voice,
And all your little fads, you poured in my life
Some thousands of roses
 
Little fury, I fight for you,
So in about ten thousand years away
We will end up in cover, under one sky as pretty
As some thousands of roses
 
I come from the sky and the stars around
Talk only about you
About a musician who plays his fingers
On a piece of wood
About their love, more blue than the skies around
 
Little Mary, I numbly wait for you
Under a shingle of your roof
The cold night's wind returns to me the ballad
I had written for you
 
Little fury, you say the life
Is a ring on each finger
Under the sun of Florida, with my empty pockets
And my cold weeping eyes
 
I come from the sky and the stars around
Talk only about you
About a musician who plays his fingers
On a piece of wood
About their love, more blue than the skies around
 
In the shadows of your street
Little Mary, can you hear?
I'm waiting only for you, to come (bis)
 
I come from the sky and the stars around
Talk only about you
About a musician who plays his fingers
On a piece of wood
About their love, more blue than the skies around
 
Publié par  bruno76 

Francis Cabrel : Les Murs de Poussière

 Walls of dust

He dreamed of a foreign city
A city with girls and games
He wanted to live differently
In another context
He dreamed on his pebbly path
‘I’ll leave tomorrow if I want
I’ve got the strength it takes to do it
And I’ll go and find something better.’
 
He wanted to find something better
Than his patch of land
Than his old tree twisted in the middle
Find something better than the soft evening light
By the fire
That used to warm his father
And the long line of his ancestors
The sun on the walls of dust
He wanted to find better than that
 
He went around the world
He even appealed to God
He went through all the love on earth
He didn’t find any better
 
He came across erstwhile kings
All draped in diamonds and fire
But in the castles of erstwhile kings
He didn’t find any better
 
He didn’t find any better
Than his patch of land
Than his old tree twisted in the middle
Any better than the soft evening light
By the fire
That used to warm his father
And the long line of his ancestors
The sun on the walls of dust
He didn’t find any better
 
He said, ‘I’m going back
I didn’t find what I wanted’
He said, ‘I’m going back’
He blinded his eyes
 
He blinded his eyes
On his patch of land
On his old tree twisted in the middle
On the reflections of the soft evening light
By the fire
That used to warm his father
And the long line of his forebears
On the sun on the walls of dust
He blinded his eyes (x3)
 
Submitted by  mbg

FRANCIS CABREL souviens toi de nous

Francis Cabrel Je l'aime à mourir

Cette magnifik chanson d'amour (écrite tt de même en 1979, hé ouai ça date hin !) a même traversé les frontières.

Vous avez du en entendre la reprise ! Hé oui, Shakira ! ;)


This beautiful love song ( written by Cabrel in 1979 , hey yeah it's been ! ) has even crossed borders.

You have to hear the recovery ! Yep, Shakira! ;)

The traduction ! :

Je l'aime à mourir : I love her to death - Francis Cabrel

Me, I was nothing, And there I am today The guardian Of her nights' sleep. I love her to death. You can destroy All that will please you, She only has to open The space between her arms, To rebuild everything. I love her to death. She erased the numbers Of the neighborhood's clocks.

http://www.franciscabrel.com

 

les pantins de naftaline - F Cabrel

 

Francis Cabrel Les Chemins De Traverse

The back roads

I walked with my eyes on the ground
You always had your nose in the air
And that's how we met
We each had our guitar
We weren't far from the station
That's how fate would have it
And you told me that when their wings die
The butterflies go where the wind carries them
We took the the first way (path) that came
And as night fell
On the rail line
We were far from the town
We only heard the notes
And the sound of our boots
Under the still full moon
 
We passed through the weeks
Like real county fairs (?)
Without even thinking of returning
We lost ourselves in the clouds
Like the migrating birds
To keep an eye on the girls of one day (?)
And so that the madmen couldn't knock us over
We took the side roads
Even if they were never the shortest
And as night fell
On the rail line
We were far from the town
We only heard the notes
And the sound of our boots
Under the still full moon
 
But sometimes I remember
Those who set their dogs on us
And threw stones in our faces
They didn't stop anything anyway
Since the only work we like
Is the bohemian way of life and travel
And as the night falls
On the rail line
We will be far away from the town
We will only hear the notes
And the sound of our boots
Under the still full moon
Under the still full moon
Publié par  beetfarmer 

C'était l'hiver - Francis Cabrel - Live (D'une ombre à l'autre)

 It has been winter

She used to say: "I have already walked too far,
my heart is too full with secrets,
too full with pain."
She used to say: "I won't continue anymore,
for what's waiting for me, I have already experienced
and it's means just more pain."
 
She used to say that to live is cruel
she wasn't believing in the sun
or in the silence of the churches anymore
the same with my smiles, they were scaring her
It has been winter at the bottome of her heart
 
The wind has never been colder
the rain never much stronger than this evening there
the evening of her twentieth year
the evening where she put out the fire
behind the mask of her eyes
in a white flash
 
She has certainly gone to heaven
she glowes next to the sun
like new churches
But since this evening there I'm crying
because since then it's cold
at the bottom of my heart
 
[it's just a try, my translation, I have no idea if it's at least halfway correct.]
 Submitted by Ice300

francis cabrel "la dame de haute savoie" - 1983

The lady of haute-savoie

When I will be tired
To smile to those people crushing me
When I will be tired
To tell them always the same sentences
When their words will burst into splinters
When there will be only walls facing me
I'll go sleep at the lady of Haute-Savoie
 
When I will be tired
To progress in the mists of a dream
When I will be tired
Of a trade where it is walk or die
When tomorrow will only bring me
The inhuman screams of a desperate pack
I'll go sleep at the lady of Haute-Savoie
 
There is running stars
In the snow around
Her log cabin
There is garlands dangling from the roof
And night falls
On the white fir trees
Just when she snaps her fingers
Just when she snaps her fingers
 
When I would have given my all
Wrote it all, when I will not have my place
Instead of wasting me
On the first Jesus-Christ around
I will take my guitar with me
And mayb my dog
If it is still there
And I'll go sleep at the lady of Haute-Savoie
At the lady of Haute-Savoie
Publié par  gregoire.tricoire

FRANCIS CABREL - L'ENCRE DE TES YEUX

The Ink of Your Eyes

Because we're never going to live together
Because we're crazy, because we're alone
Because there are so many of them
Even morality speaks for them
I would still like to tell you
For all that I was able to write
I drew the ink out of your eyes.
 
I never saw that you wore chains
Out of wanting too much to look at you
I forgot my own
We dreamed of Venice and of freedom
I would still like to tell you
All that I was able to write
It was your smile that dictated it to me.
 
You will come walk in my dreams for a long time
You will always come from the side
Where the sun rises
And if despite that I end up forgetting you
I would still like to tell you
All that I was able to write
Will for a long time carry the scent of regret.
 
But because we're never going to live together...
Publié par  shisa 

Je pense encore à toi - Françis Cabrel (live)

I still think of you

I entered the church
And saw no one inside
Only the subdued looks of the stucco statues
I know of a place with nothing above
I still think of you.
I should have been wary of the swirly winds
Of those sharp stones under still waters
Of those bits of streams that become ports
I still think of you.
I have been told that everything fades
Hopefully time passes
I would have learned it takes a long time
But time passes, hopefully, hopefully.
I came across the beggar that lost his way
In my rain coat, I look a bit like him
And then I have your image stuck in my eyes
I still think of you.
 
Publié par  gregoire.tricoire

Francis Cabrel - Carte postale

Post card

Allumés les postes de télévision,
Lit televisions,
Verrouillées les portes des conversations,
Locked doors conversations,
Oubliés les dames et les jeux de cartes,
Forgotten the ladies and card games,
Endormies les fermes quand les jeunes partent.
Sleepy farms when the young leave.
Brisées les lumières des ruelles en fête,
Broken lights of the streets in celebration,
Refroidi le vin brûlant, les assiettes,
Cooled the burning wine, plates,
Déchirées les nappes des soirées de noce,
Torn tablecloths wedding parties,
Oubliées les fables du sommeil des gosses,
Forget the fables of sleep kids,

Arrêtées les valses des derniers jupons,
Arrested waltzes recent petticoats,
Et les fausses notes des accordéons.
And wrong notes accordions.
C'est un hameau perdu sous les étoiles,
It is a hamlet under the stars
Avec de vieux rideaux pendus à des fenêtres sales,
With old curtains hung at the windows dirty,
Et sur le vieux buffet sous la poussière grise,
And the old buffet in the gray dust
Il reste une carte postale.
It remains a postcard.

Goudronnées les pierres des chemins tranquilles,
Paved stone paths alone,
Relevées les herbes des endroits fragiles,
Identified herbs fragile places,
Désertées les places des belles foraines,
Deserted places beautiful fairground
Asséchées les traces de l'eau des fontaines.
Dried traces of water fountains.

Oubliées les phrases sacrées des grands-pères,
Forgotten the sacred phrases grandfathers,
Aux âtres des grandes cheminées de pierre,
The hearths of large stone fireplaces,
Envolés les rires des nuits de moissons,
Gone were the nights of laughs harvest,
Et allumés les postes de télévision.
Lit and televisions.

C'est un hameau perdu sous les étoiles,
It is a hamlet under the stars
Avec de vieux rideaux pendus à des fenêtres sales,
With old curtains hung at the windows dirty,
Et sur le vieux buffet sous la poussière grise,
And the old buffet in the gray dust
Il reste une carte postale.
It remains a postcard.

Envolées les robes des belles promises,
Wings of beautiful dresses promised
Les ailes des grillons, les paniers de cerises,
The wings of crickets, baskets of cherries,
Oubliés les rires des nuits de moissons,
Forgotten nights of laughter harvests,
Et allumés les postes de télévision.
Lit and televisions.
 


Francis Cabrel - Meme si j'y reste - ( carte postale)

Francis Cabrel Repondez Moi

Answer Me

I live in a house with no balcony nor roof
Where there aren't even bees about the jam jars
There aren't even birds, nothing of nature
It's not even a house
I left in passing several words on the wall
Of the corridor descending to the carpark
Several words for the grand people
Not even insults
If anyone understood them
Answer me
 
My heart fears being walled up in your towers of ice
Condemned to the sound of trucks passing,
That [heart] which dreams of fields of stars, daffodil garlands
for hanging upon girls' shoulders
But in the morning you train yourself in running around your habits
And in the evening your forest of antennae are branched out towards solitude
And though the full moon would shine
Though the south wind would blow
You, you comprehend nothing
And as for me, I see your splendid dogs passing with eyes of ice
Carried on cushions which their owners would kiss
For hands to touch, it requires a password
For hands to touch
Answer me
 
My heart is afraid of getting stuck in so tiny a space
Condemned to the sound of trucks passing,
that [heart] which dreams of fields of stars and torrents of daffodils
To cover girls' shoulders
But the last of the fairies seeks her magic wand
My friend, the stream sleeps in a plastic bottle
The seasons have stopped at the feet of synthetic trees
There is nothing left but me
And as for me, I live in my house with no balcony nor roof
Where there aren't even bees about the jam jars
nor even birds, nor anything of nature
It is not even a house.
Publié par  oiseauvert 

Francis Cabrel - Ma Place Dans Le Trafic

My place in the traffic

The day is just breaking
I'm already awake
And already I run
a blade on my cheeks.
And the smoking coffee,
the lift that waits for me
and the engine I switch on
help me to slowly take
to take my place in the traffic
to take my place in the traffic.
 
I would like someone to come and set me free
but the one I just choosed
gave me barely enough to survive
and not enough to escape.
I remain a prisoner of my promises
to all these hagglers
who make me sleep on thick wool1
and force me, at the end of every single night,
to take my place in the traffic
to take my place in the traffic.
 
Now when I don't want to talk to anyone anymore
When I've got the blues
I pick up the reciever
and I dial 122
 
I am a mutant, a new man.
I don't even own my desires.
I use carbon oxydes for perfume
and I'm scared to find out how I will end.
And I watch the rebels walk away,
my skin feels too tight
but I swore on the law of standings.
If I want to die at the top one day
I have to take my place in the traffic,
must take my place in the traffic.
 
Now when I don't want to talk to anyone anymore
When I've got the blues
I pick up the reciever
and I dial 12.
 
Because whatever I say,
whatever I do
the black cars must drive on.
 
I am a mutant, a new man.
I don't even own my desires.
I use carbon oxydes for perfume
and I'm scared to find out how I will end.
There are so many terrible things
happening in my neighborhood
that my children are already aware
that they will have to get used to
steal my place in the traffic,
steal my place in the traffic.
My place in the traffic.
 
  • 1."haggler" is "marchand de tapis" (carpet seller), hence the metaphor of thick wool (they make me sleep on the carpets they sold me)
  • 2.at the time, it was the number of the French telephone information service. Real people were answering the call and gave a phone number in exchange for an address. Nowadays of course all this is done by computers. And there's facebook to forget about our empty lives

Francis Cabrel - Chandelle

 [A beautiful love song]

Francis Cabrel Comme une madone oubliée

The traduction ! :

Like a forgotten Madonna - Comme une Madonne oubliée - Francis Cabrel

Every evening, the same girl waits In the same square, the same bench, Like a forgotten Madonna, Her legs crossed. She travels amidst houses, In the blue night of televisions, As light ghosts, Veils of smoke. They say she has rooms in town, They say she sleeps on the side, That she's rather ...

http://www.franciscabrel.com

Chauffard

Francis Cabrel - Je m'ennuie de chez moi - (carte postale)

The traduction ! :

Je m'ennuie de chez moi - I miss home - Francis Cabrel

When winds are tearing on roofs' angles Streets I barely cross through, When days are stretching and do not end, Do I miss home? When I feel autumn wasting away over there, When I know that the fire devours The banks of theGaronnewhere trees blaze, I miss home.

http://www.franciscabrel.com

Francis cabre - question d'équilibre

Francis Cabrel ( live ) - La Fille qui m'accompagne

The traduction ! :

The girl who accompanies me - La fille qui m'accompagne - Francis Cabrel

She speaks like water of the fountains As mornings on the mountain Her eyes are almost as clear As the white walls deep in Spain The midnight blue of her dreams attracts me Even if she knows the tearing words I promised never to lie To the girl who accompanies me.

http://www.franciscabrel.com

 

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