Festival submission "supplique pour être enterré sur la plage de Sète" Brassens

[danieldesete]

Here's one just on time for city fest. It's called "supplique pour être enterré sur la plage de Sète" by Georges Brassens. Georges Brassens (1921-1981) is a very famous French singer, who was born and lived in Sète, in the south of France - my place. The original song is much more longer.

My good friend jsteelguitar plays the great solos you can hear round 3'. I'll maybe try an other mix in a few days, just to have an excuse for a self bump.

Tell us all the good you think about it.

hoping you are all surviving the hard times
daniel

[launched]

Great song Daniel! Sounds wonderful - I see where the Beatles got some of their ideas from!

And some fabulous picking too!!!

Love it!

Mark

[64Guitars]

Well done, Daniel.  And great soloing by steelguitar.

[dasilvasings]

Good stuff!

Really steady playing and top singing. I know a little french, but I couldn't understand the lyrics. Is it humorous à la Boris Vian? Don't now why but it came to my mind a book I read ages ago "J'irai cracher sur vos tombes" or something like that.

[Oldrottenhead]

like dasilva i know a little french but couldn't understand the lyric either, didn't stop me enjoying it tho, i need to check out this georges brassens fellow.

[steelguitar]

Thank you Launched and 64Guitars for the compliment ;-)

To Dasilvasings and Oldrottenhead, the lyrics of this song are poetic and humorous... difficult to translate...  

So I searched a translation, and found here not a real translation, but an adaptation, an excellent site : http://brassensredux.com/French/paroles.htm#
I have to say that, for me, the adaptator Didier Delahaye made a great job to keep the spirit of the song, even if he take sometimes some liberty from original words, but is it a wrong thing? I don't thing so...  Perhaps Daniel will have a different opinion, I don't know.

Supplication to be buried
on the shores of a distant isle

The Reaper who never, according to rumour
Fully appreciated my sense of humour
Shadows me like an imbecile
And as friends around me started to drop like flies
The time had come, I thought, my will to finalize
By appending this codicil.

Into the turquoise ink of a tranquil lagoon
Dip at your will your quill, O learned legal goon!
And with your finest penmanship
Terms of my disposal lay down onto parchment
For when my heart and soul have reached an agreement
To skip my body and jump ship.

The day when my spirit takes to the skies and scrams
Relieving my body of some twenty-one grams
As a good Swedish doctor says
May my remains be lain onto a sleeping berth
And ride the Night Express towards my place of birth
End of the line, end of the days.

The old family vault is cozy with no frills
But unfortunately it is packed to the gills
And ere one punches out the clock
I will be well advanced in decomposition
Still, I could not declare with youthful ambition
Move out for the kid on the block!

Where the track meets the sea it would stand to reason
That my resting place lie beyond the horizon
On an unpopulated strand
Please just ask the dolphins who grew up at my side
Whether they could kindly give my body a ride
Yonder to that desert island.

There you will find a beach bless'd with a clement tide
Where the gods of the sea seldom thunder and chide
Where should a wreck ever occur
The captain would exclaim: "There's no need to panic
This is the perfect spot for a sunny picnic
Let's all this paradise conquer!"

It was in such a place, as a sap-filling shoot
Longing for more than an onanistic pursuit
That I encountered my first love
Out of the endless blue a mermaid washed ashore
And taught me the maiden lesson in woman lore
Oceans inside, and clouds above.

While there is some merit in scattering at sea
One's last burnt offerings for nobody to see
I left my sea legs on the land
And where a great poet finds meaning in an urn
I would humbly prefer when comes my resting turn
To dig my heels into the sand.

A graceful grave huddled between the sea and sky
Will not convey sadness nor be hard on the eye
Whenever sunbathers cavort
Conveniently, behind my headstone ladies will
Change into bathing suits, while the little boys trill:
"Neato! A sandcastle! A fort!"

Is it asking too much that on my humble plot
You plant a spreading tree for times when it is hot
Something leafy and exquisite
That will provide a bit of appreciated shade
For surviving loved ones who brave the seas and wade
To pay me a little visit?

Gathering momentum from a faraway breeze
Building up their current across the seven seas
The great winds and the ocean streams
Above head will circle and all around me whirl
Bringing scents and echoes of a beloved world
To populate my endless dreams.

And if on my sandy and comfortable lap
A siren lies herself down for a little nap
Wearing but her pelagic skill
May I be forgiven if the shade of my cross
And her most intimate regions happen to cross
For a fleeting posthumous thrill.

Poor enlightened pharaohs in pyramids confined
Misguided emperors in pompousness enshrined
Poor ashes on history's way
You will come to envy the everlasting fate
Of one who reposes in a vacation state
Who spends his death on holiday

You will come to envy the everlasting fate
Of one who reposes in a vacation state
Who spends his death on holiday.

© Didier Delahaye, 2004


In french : Supplique pour être enterré
à la plage de Sète

La Camarde qui ne m´a jamais pardonné
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 advint 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 celle de Gavroche et de Mimi Pinson
Celles des titis, des grisettes
Que vers le sol natal mon corps soit ramené
Dans un sleeping du Paris-méditerranée
Terminus en gare de Sète.

Mon caveau de famille, hélas ! n´est pas tout neuf
Vulgairement parlant, il est plein comme un œuf
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 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
Le long de cette grève où le sable est si fin
Sur la plage de la corniche.

C´est une plage où 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
Sauve qui peut, le vin et le pastis d´abord
Chacun sa bonbonne et courage".

Et c´est là que jadis à quinze ans révolus
A l´âge où s´amuser tout seul ne suffit plus
Je connu la prime amourette
Auprès d´une sirène, une femme poisson
Je reçu de l´amour la première leçon
Avalai la première arête.

Déférence gardée envers Paul Valéry
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
Planter, je vous en prie une espèce de pin
Pin parasol de préférence
Qui saura prémunir contre l´insolation
Les bons amis venus faire sur ma concession
D´affectueuses révérences.

Tantôt venant d´Espagne et tantôt d´Italie
Tous chargés de parfums, de musiques jolies
Le Mistral et la Tramontane
Sur mon dernier sommeil verseront les échos
De villanelle, un jour, un jour de fandango
De tarentelle, 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

Musically

steelguitar / jsebsteelguitar
Jean-Sébastien

[maxit]

very good rendition! bravi! I learned to appreciate Brassens trough my friend franco pietropaoli, that with Andrea Belli translate and in italian the brassens repertorio. I will tell him, so he can hear this one!

[Hook]

This is so very good man. I want to listen to this all day long, I don't care what your saying (thanks for the translation) it just sound incredible. Can we get this posted in the site player so I can download it?
Thanks for sharing, it awesome!!!!
Rock on!

[steelguitar]

Hook, thanks for your kind words, Daniel will appreciate.
You can download this song on the soundcloud player (the down arrow  button).
Musically
Jean-Sébastien

[Nelson]

MY = OH = MY

Daniel
This is a wonderful piece of work. You're right, the solo is amazing.

The song has a delightful feel to it, that makes you want to grab your guitar and play along with it... which I did.

Thanks for sharing.