MES ADAPTATIONS FRANCAISES

VIENDREZ-VOUS LÀ-HAUT

« The wild mountain thyme ». Une adaptation personnelle de cette chanson. En français la fraise des bois a remplacé le thym sauvage. (La video prochainement).

Oh, the summer time is coming,

And the trees are sweetly blooming,

And the wild mountain thyme

Grows around the blooming heather.

Will ye go, lassie go?

And we’ll all go together

To pluck wild mountain thyme

All around the blooming heather,

Will ye go, lassie, go?

I will build my love a bower

Near yon pure crystal fountain,

And on it I will build,

All the flowers of the mountain.

Will ye go, lassie go?

And we’ll all go together

To pluck wild mountain thyme

All around the blooming heather,

Will ye go, lassie, go?

If my true love, she were gone,

I will surely find another

Where wild mountain thyme

Grows around the blooming heather.

Will ye go, lassie go?

And we’ll all go together

To pluck wild mountain thyme

All around the blooming heather,

Will ye go, lassie, go?

Oh, the summertime is coming

And the trees are sweetly blooming

And the wild mountain thyme

Grows around the blooming heather.

Will ye go, lassie go?.

And we’ll all go together

To pluck wild mountain thyme

All around the blooming heather,

Will ye go, lassie, go?

LA CHANBRE DE MON PERE

« My father’s room » est une composition de l’artiste Allan TAYLOR. Je l’ai adaptée en français en me rappelant mon père, ses habitudes, ses passions,… La trame poétique du texte original est respectée.

My Father’s Room

No, you don’t have to tell me this was his room

‘Cause I can feel deep inside that it’s my home

I can feel there’s someone here, maybe someone’s near

No, you don’t have to tell me this was his room

And there’s the old soft chair where he sat

The old coat handle where he hung his hat

He’d have a smile upon his face, ’cause this was his favourite place

No, you don’t have to tell me this was his room

And there’s the old piano no one plays anymore

And it’s known much better times before

It’ll only play an old song, one that’s been long gone

No, you don’t have to tell me this was his room

And on the wall, the rusty nail where my picture hung

The ladder to the bedroom with the broken rung

There’s no rug on’t have to tell me this was his room

No, yupon the floor, wind comes through the door

No, you dou don’t have to tell me this was his room

‘Cause I can feel deep inside that it’s my home

I can feel there’s someone here, maybe someone’s near

No, you don’t have to tell me this was his room

LA VILLE QUE J’AI TANT AIMEE

Je connais bien sûr la version française de TRI-YANN, mais elle me semble très éloignée du texte original. Alors j’ai voulu réaliser la mienne.

LA VILLE QUE J’AI TANT AIMEE

texte français: Roland FOLIO

THE TOWN I LOVED SO WELL a song created by Phil COULTER

In my memory I will always see the town that I have loved so well
Where our school played ball by the gas yard wall
And we laughed through the smoke and the smell.
Going home in the rain running up the dark lane
Past the jail and down beside the Fountain
Those were happy days in so many many ways
In the town I loved so well.

In the early morn the shirt factory horn
Called the women from Creggan, the Moor and the Bog
While the men on the dole played a mother’s role
Fed the children and then walked the dog
And when times got rough there was just about enough
But they saw it through without complaining
For deep inside was a burning pride
In the town I loved so well.

There was music there in the Derry air
Like a language that we could all understand
I remember the day when I earned my first pay
When I played in a small pick-up band
There I spent my youth and to tell you the truth
I was sad to leave it all behind me
There I learned about life and I found a wife
In the town I loved so well:

But when I returned oh my eyes how they burned
To see how a town could be brought to its knees
By the armoured cars and the bombed out bars
And the gas that hangs on to every breeze
Now the army’s installed by the old gasyard wall
And the damned barbed wire gets higher and higher
With their tanks and their guns
Oh my God, what have they done
To the town I loved so well.

Now the music’s gone but they carry on
For their spirit’s been bruised, never broken
They will not forget but their hearts are set
On tomorrow and peace once again
Now what’s done is done and what’s won is won
And what’s lost is lost and gone forever
I can only pray for a bright brand new day
For the town I Iove so well.

MON CHEVAL, MON FUSIL ET MOI

« My rifle, my pony and me ». Un classique du folk américain entendu dans le film « Rio Bravo » avec John WAYNE, Dean MARTIN, Ricky NELSON. Ici une adaptation française personnelle qui respecte le plus possible l’esprit de l’oeuvre originale.

My Rifle, My Pony And Me

The sun is sinking in the west
The cattle go down to the stream
The redwing settles in the nest
It’s time for a cowboy to dream

Purple light in the canyons
That’s where I long to be
With my three good companions
Just my rifle, pony and me

Gonna hang (gonna hang) my sombrero (my sombrero)
On the limb (on the limb) of a tree (of a tree)
Coming home (coming home) sweetheart darling (sweetheart darling)
Just my rifle, pony and me
Just my rifle, my pony and me

(Whippoorwill in the willow
Sings a sweet melody
Riding to Amarillo)
Just my rifle, pony and me
No more cows (no more cows) to be roping (to be roping)
No more strays will I see
Round the bend (round the bend) she’ll be waiting (she’ll be waiting)
For my rifle, pony and me
For my rifle, my pony and me

VILLE POURRIE

Une adaptation française personnelle de ce classique » Dirty Old Town ». Je n’ai trouvé rien de mieux que « ville pourrie » pour le titre. Louis CAPART a je crois intitulé sa version « vielle ville de merde ». Pourquoi pas!

DIRTY OLD TOWN

I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
I kissed my girl by the factory wall
Dirty old town
Dirty old town

Clouds are drifting across the moon
Cats are prowling on their beat

Spring’s a girl from the streets at night

Dirty old town

I heard a siren from the docks

Saw a train set the night on fire

Smelled the spring on the smoky wind

Dirty old town

I’m going to make me a good sharp axe

Shining steel tempered in the fire

I’ll chop you down like an old dead tree

Dirty old town

I met my love by the gas works wall

Dreamed a dream by the old canal

I kissed my girl by the factory wall

Dirty old town

LES CHAMPS D’ETHENRY

Une adaptation française personnelle de ce classique irlandais.

The Fields of Athenry

By a lonely prison wall,

I heard a young girl calling

Michael they have taken you away,

For you stole Trevelyan’s corn

So the young might see the morn,

Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay

Low lie, The Fields Of Athenry

Where once we watched the small free birds fly

Our love was on the wing

We had dreams and songs to sing,

It’s so lonely round the Fields of Athenry

By a lonely prison wall

I heard a young man calling

Nothing matters Mary, when you’re free

Against the famine and the crown,

I rebelled, they cut me down

Now you must raise our child with dignity

By a lonely harbour wall

She watched the last star falling

As the prison ship sailed out against the sky

For she lived in hope and pray

For her love in Botany Bay

It’s so lonely round the Fields Of Athenry

Low lie, The Fields Of Athenry

Where once we watched the small free birds fly

Our love was on the wing

We had dreams and songs to sing,

It’s so lonely round the Fields of Athenry

LA BALLADE D’ANN FRANK

LA BALLADE D’ANN FRANK

« Ballad of Ann FRANK ». Une adaptation française personnelle de cette oeuvre poignante composée par Johnny McEVOY. J’ai essayé de respecter l’esprit du texte original et la musique.

LA BALLADE D’ANN FRANK

Music and lyrics by Johnny McEvoy

Texte français par Roland FOLIO

What did you dream my love my love, that woke you from your sleep

I dreamt I saw the soldiers, again march up ou street
I saw them in their un]forms and their boots of shinny leather
And I knew when they came to my front door the day would go no fartherAnd the wind blows cold from the Zider Zee and Amsterdam is weeping
But Vincent’s tears can’t wash away the shame that we are feeling

And what did you dream my love my love that keeps you now from sleeping

I heard the soldiers on the stairs, in foreign tongues they’re speaking
And they took me to the railway yard where the carriages were waiting
For on their sleeve was a crooked cross, on my heart was the star of DavidWhat did you dream my love my love, there are tears upon your pillow
I saw the chimney’s in the east and the black smoke from them billows
And it slowly swept across the land til it covered ever nation
But no one heard my lonesome cry or came to my salvationSo sleep my love it’s over now, it’s time that you were leaving
The morning stars are fading fast, there’s no more time for dreamin’
For the sun will warm the earth again and dry up all the sorrow
The flowers that faded yesterday will bloom again tomorrow

Un second titre d’Allan TAYLOR « It’s good to see you » que j’ai adapté en français en essayant de respecter le sens du texte original. La vidéo prochainement.