transl.: Johnny Mercer
Autumn Leaves
(Les feuilles mortes)
| Oh, je voudrais tant que tu te souviennes Des jours heureux où nous étions amis En ce temps là la vie était plus belle Et le soleil plus brûlant qu'aujourd'hui Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle Tu vois je n'ai pas oublié Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi Et le vent du nord les emporte Dans la nuit froide de l'oublie Tu vois je n'ai pas oublié La chanson que tu me chantais C'est une chanson, qui nous ressemble Toi tu m'aimais et je t'aimais Nous vivions tous les deux ensemble Toi qui m'aimais, moi qui t'aimais |: Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s'aiment Tout doucement sans faire de bruit Et la mer efface sur le sable Les pas des amants désunis :| Les pas des amants désunis | Autumn leaves fall and are swept out of sight The words that you said have gone too Autumn leaves fall and are swept out of sight So are the memories of love that we knew The wind of forgetfulness blows then Into the night of regret, The song you would often sing Is echoing, echoing yet The falling leaves drift by the window The autumn leaves of red and gold I see your lips, the summer kisses The sun-burned hands I used to hold Since you went away, the days grow long And soon, I'll hear old winter's song But I'll miss you most of all, my darling, When autumn leaves start to fall When autumn leaves start to fall |
The scenery is going so fast behind the windows. On scene is switching over another one. It is like slow movie, when the frame by the frame of the film strip passes the light source and it is grabbed by the optics, i.e. by the system of the magic lens, to show the two-dimensional picture to the impatient viewers.
However, it is only an illusion. Only bit to draw mist away and to look through a time mirror. An eyewink, the reality is back again. The car is driving through the hairpins and is coming near to a village. It is long time that I was here. The memories are coming up from my memory.
We are on the place. The car has driven through the village and then into the forest. Only for me as if time has stopped. Actually no in the literal sense, because time still passes. It is never-ending story. So, we, PEOPLE, invented it!
In vain I am seeking some words. After all it is useless, though! It suffices only to listen. Yes, it is that space banked by the trees, in whose treetops wind is spinning. I want only to wait. I want only to embrace everything around me. I want only to forget.
The dead leafs cover the graves of the dead. Autumn has come.
(P. S. I wrote this contribution after our visit of the small forest graveyard, where my beloved great-grandmother rest in peace.)
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