Avec le Temps, canção francesa de Léo Ferré fala que o tempo pode minar tudo: as lembranças, o amor... Eu entendo a letra como alguém que foi deixado para trás no relacionamento, como consequência o vazio e, com essa dor, a busca individual por amor. Em vão... parece (para os mais pessimistas; ou mais realistas?). A letra é de uma profundidade impressionante e seu significado se expande conforme o tempo passa. Esse tempo tão citado na música. Essa urgência é sentida em quase todas as idades, acentuando-se após os 50, ou 60 anos...
Temos aqui algumas versões. Prefiro com o compositor, Léo Ferré, que imprime mais dramatidade, tão inerente aos franceses. Eu sei... vim de família francesa por parte de pai (bisavó materna, Ambrosina Lamounier).
Disponibilizarei a letra em francês e vídeos com tradução em inglês e português. Entendo algumas palavras em francês e poucas em inglês, portanto não tenho como dizer se estão perfeitas. Abaixo, a primeira versão que ouvi, antiga e com o som comprometido - o que não reduz a beleza pois a letra é um poema. Impecável. Tenham em mente: a vida passa rápido.
AVEC LE TEMPS - Léo Ferré
Avec le temps...
Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va
On oublie le visage et l'on oublie la voix
Le cœur, quand ça bat plus, c'est pas la peine d'aller
Chercher plus loin, faut laisser faire et c'est très bien
Avec le temps...
Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va
L'autre qu'on adorait, qu'on cherchait sous la pluie
L'autre qu'on devinait au détour d'un regard
Entre les mots, entre les lignes et sous le fard
D'un serment maquillé qui s'en va faire sa nuit
Avec le temps tout s'évanouit
Avec le temps...
Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va
Même les plus chouettes souv'nirs ça t'as une de ces gueules
A la gal'rie j'farfouille dans les rayons d'la mort
Le samedi soir quand la tendresse s'en va toute seule
Avec le temps...
Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va
L'autre à qui l'on croyait pour un rhume, pour un rien
L'autre à qui l'on donnait du vent et des bijoux
Pour qui l'on eût vendu son âme pour quelques sous
Devant quoi l'on s'traînait comme traînent les chiens
Avec le temps, va, tout va bien
Avec le temps...
Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va
On oublie les passions et l'on oublie les voix
Qui vous disaient tout bas les mots des pauvres gens
Ne rentre pas trop tard, surtout ne prends pas froid
Avec le temps...
Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va
Et l'on se sent blanchi comme un cheval fourbu
Et l'on se sent glacé dans un lit de hasard
Et l'on se sent tout seul peut-être mais peinard
Et l'on se sent floué par les années perdues
Alors vraiment... avec le temps... on n'aime plus
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WITH TIME - Léo Ferré
With time
With time, they go away, everything goes away
We forget the face and we forget the voice
The "heart beat stop", there's no need to go further
Searching further, let it go and that is very well
With time
With time, it goes, everything goes
The other we loved, we searched in the rain
The other we guessed with a "passing glance"
Between words, between the lines and under the make-up
On a "disguised" vow, who will "dutifully work nights"
With time everything vanishes
With time
With Time, it goes, all goes away,
Even the coolest souveniers that have us "drop our jaw" at the 99 cent store, we scavenge (Farfouille=turn upside down by searching) in the aisles of death,
On Saturday evening when tenderness goes away all alone, With time...
With time, it goes, everything goes
The other whom we took for a pain in the neck, for a nothing
The other to whow we gave the boot and jewelry
For one who whould sell his soul for pennies
In face of all this, who dragged ourselves along like street dogs
With time, go, everything is fine
With time
With time, it goes, everything goes
We forget the passions and we forget the voices
Which whispered the words of the poor people
"Don't return too late, mostly don't catch a cold."
With time
With time, it goes, all goes away
And we feel "old and grey" like an "burnt out" horse
And we feel frozen in a bed of "bad luck"
And we feel ourselves all alone, perhaps "falsely self-sufficient"
And we feel ourselves fooled by the lost years
So really,
With time we don't love any more.
Submetido por bill.levine.33 em Segunda-feira, 11/02/2013 - 08:13
Last edited by bill.levine.33 on Sábado, 29/06/2013 - 20:48
Comentários do autor:
Yes, I took some poetic liberty with the title, using the English expression "With Time". For example, "with time you'll get over it." One could say "over time", as well.
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Outra tradução no site emilyspoetryblog.com
Avec le Temps by Léo Ferré
In time …
In time, it goes, everything goes away.
We forget the face and we forget the voice,
The heart, when it stops beating, there’s no point
Searching any further, you must let it go and that’s good.
In time…
In time, it goes, everything goes away.
The Other, who we adored, who we searched for in the rain;
The Other, who we guessed with one look,
Between words, between the lines and beneath the make-up
Of a masked vow, who goes off for the night…
In time, everything vanishes
In time …
In time, it goes, everything goes away,
Even the best memories, the most incredible ones,
In the cheap shops I search the aisles of death,
On Saturday evening, when tenderness disappears.
In time…
In time, it goes, everything goes,
The Other, who we believed for silly reasons,
Tho Other, who we gave nothing and jewels,
For whom we would have sold our soul for a few pennies,
Who we followed around like dogs do,
In time, it goes; everything’s fine.
In time …
In time, it goes, everything goes.
We forget the passions and we forget the voices
Which whispered the words of poor people:
“Don’t stay out too late, and, especially, don’t catch cold.”
In time…
In time, it goes, everything goes away.
And we feel pale and grey like an old horse
And we feel frozen in a bed of chance,
And we feel all alone, perhaps, but comfortable.
And we feel fooled by the lost years
So, really,
In time we don’t love any more.
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