autumns symphonies – a symphony of words in one movement


(English translation below)

Parole de Les Coeurs Tendres

(to Father John Fitzgerald)

 

“…we are forgiven in so far as we forgive..”

-dafree whitewolfe

tendres1

Y en a qui ont le coeur si large

Qu’on y entre sans frapper

Y en a qui ont le cœur si large

Qu’on en voit que la moitié

Y en a qui ont le cœur si frêle

Qu’on le briserait du doigt

Y en qui ont le cœur trop frêle

Pour vivre comme toi et moi

Z’ont pleins de fleurs dans les yeux

Les yeux à fleur de peur

De peur de manquer l’heure

Qui conduit à Paris a La Notre Dame

Y en a qui ont le cœur si tendre

Qu’y reposent les mésanges

Y en qui ont le cœur trop tendre

Moitié hommes et moitié anges

Y en a qui ont le cœur si vaste

Qu’ils sont toujours en voyage

Y en a qui ont le cœur trop vaste

Pour se priver de mirages

Z’ont pleins de fleurs dans les yeux

Les yeux à fleur de peur

De peur de manquer l’heure

Qui conduit à Paris a La Sacre Coeur

Y en a qui ont le cœur dehors

Et ne peuvent que l’offrir

Le cœur tellement dehors

Qu’ils sont tous à s’en servir

Celui-là a le cœur dehors

Et si frèle et si tendre

Que maudit soient les arbres morts

Qui ne pourraient point l’entendre

A pleins de fleurs dans les yeux

Les yeux à fleur de peur

De peur de manquer l’heure

Qui conduit à Paris a La Notre Dame

 

Y en a qui ont le cœur si large

Qu’on y entre sans frapper

Y en a qui ont le cœur si large

Qu’on en voit que la moitié

Y en a qui ont le cœur si frêle

Qu’on le briserait du doigt

Y en qui ont le cœur trop frêle

Pour vivre comme toi et moi

Z’ont pleins de fleurs dans les yeux

Les yeux à fleur de peur

De peur de manquer l’heure

Qui conduit à Paris a La Sacre Coeur

Y en a qui ont le cœur si tendre

Qu’y reposent les mésanges

Y en qui ont le cœur trop tendre

Moitié hommes et moitié anges

Y en a qui ont le cœur si vaste

Qu’ils sont toujours en voyage

Y en a qui ont le cœur trop vaste

Pour se priver de mirages

Z’ont pleins de fleurs dans les yeux

Les yeux à fleur de peur

De peur de manquer l’heure

Qui conduit à Paris a La Notre Dame

Y en a qui ont le cœur dehors

Et ne peuvent que l’offrir

Le cœur tellement dehors

Qu’ils sont tous à s’en server

Celui-là a le cœur dehors

Et si frèle et si tendre

Que maudit soient les arbres morts

Qui ne pourraient point l’entendre

A pleins de fleurs dans les yeux

Les yeux à fleur de peur

De peur de manquer l’heure

tendres2

Qui conduit à Paris a La Sacrre Coeur

 

chrétien marc valentin

(© 16 mai 2013)

 

The Words of The Tender of Hart

(to Father John Fitzgerald)

 

“…we are forgiven in so far as we forgive..”

-dafree whitewolfe

tendres1

 

there are only but two with greater harts

there are only but two with greater hart

these are those who enter without knocking

there are only but two with greater hart

whose moiety all others see less than half

there are many who are so frail of hart

those hands whose fingers are slow not nimble

there are many who are so frail of hart

to live like you and me would crush their souls

those many have eyes cloudy with flowers

these eyes are full of stormy clouds of fear

fear they are lacking the hours to find

that all paths find old endings in paris

there are only but two with harts so tender

these are those who walk with their breasts exposed

these are those whose harts are always tender

whose moiety is both profane and divine

there are only but two with vaster hart

pilgrims on a pilgrimage without end

there are only but two with vaster harts

who danse upon the desert mirages

the many have eyes cloudy with flowers

theses eyes are full of stormy clouds

of fear fear they are lacking the hours

to find that all paths find new beginnings

in paris these are those whose one hart remains outside

this empty hart is that pearl without price

the hart inside which all other harts dream

is the one hart that carries all lovers home

these two here that hart that remains outside

as it is fragile so it is supple like but unlike

those cursed dead trees that point at stars

but do not hear angels sing

their dull eyes are full of flowery clouds

those eyes are full of thistles and sharp thorns

fear they are lacking the hours to find

that one hart that leads all lovers to paris

 

in paris you and i are always dansing

we are neither beginnings nor endings so

we are never not found kissing in paris

 

there are only but two with greater hart

these are those who enter without knocking

there are only but two with greater hart

whose moiety all others see less than half

there are many who are so frail of hart

those hands whose fingers are slow not nimble

there are many who are so frail of hart

to live like you and me would crush their souls

those many have eyes cloudy with flowers

these eyes are full of stormy clouds of fear

fear they are lacking the hours to find

that all paths find old endings in paris

there are only but two with harts so tender

these are those who walk with their breasts exposed

these are those whose harts are always tender

whose moiety is both profane and divine

there are only but two with vaster hart

pilgrims on a pilgrimage without end

there are only but two with vaster harts

who danse upon the desert mirages

the many have eyes cloudy with flowers

theses eyes are full of stormy clouds of fear

fear they are lacking the hours to find

that all paths find new beginnings in paris

these are those whose one hart remains outside

this empty hart is that pearl without price

the hart inside which all other harts dream

is the one white stag that carries all lovers home

these two here hearing that stag that remaining outside

as it is fragile so it is supple like but unlike

those cursed dead trees that point at stars

but do not hear angels sing

their dull eyes are full of flowery clouds

those eyes are full of thistles and sharp thorns

fear they are lacking the hours to find

tendres2

that one hart that leads all lovers to paris

 

chrétien marc valentin

(© 16 mai 2013)

 

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