Donderdag 23 maart 1989
Poetry Man
Dit blog (met dank aan seniorennet) is enkel voor NIET-commerciële doeleinden.
Alle songteksten zijn uitsluitend eigendom van hun respectievelijke copyright eigenaars; dus ga de muziek kopen die je mooi vindt, zo steun je de artiest.
NON-profit, non-commercial blog, to help preserve the songs of our youth; hence for entertainment only.
All lyrics are the copyright of their respective owners; you are encouraged to go buy their music.
Poetry Man
Reageer op dit bericht
Reageer op dit bericht
Woensdag 22 maart 1989
Smokey Places
Smokey Places
Composer(s): Abner Spector
Performer(s): The Corsairs
Meeting in smokey places
Hiding in shadowy corners
Dancing where no one knows our faces
Sharing love stolen in the night
In smokey places
Oh oh how I cried
On your wedding day
Like, like my heart would break
How you regret your wedding day
Now paying for your bad mistake
Mmmmmm
Meeting in smokey places
Hiding in shadowy corners
Oh we are dancing where no one knows our faces
Sharing love stolen in the night
In smokey places
Some sunny day
He will set you free
Free to be my life
Some sunny day
Sweetheart, he'll set you free
We'll be, we'll be satified
Meeting in smokey places
Hiding in shadowy corners
We just keep dancing where no one knows our faces
Sharing love stolen in the night
In smokey places
Sharing love stolen in the night
In smokey places
Sharing love stolen in the night
In smokey places
Woensdag 22 maart 1989
Poetry In Motion
Poetry In Motion
Composer(s): Paul Kaufman; Mike Anthony
Performer(s): Johnny Tillotson
When I see my baby
What do I see?
Poetry
Poetry in motion …
Poetry in motion
Walking by my side
Her lovely locomotion
Keeps my eyes open wide
Poetry in motion
See her gentle sway
A wave out on the ocean
Could never move that way
I love every moment
There's nothing I would change
She doesn't need improvement
She's much too nice to rearrange
Poetry in motion
Dancing close to me
A flower of devotion
A-swaying gracefully
Oh
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa
Poetry in motion
See her gentle sway
A wave out on the ocean
Could never move that way
I love every moment
There's nothing I would change
She doesn't need improvement
She's much too nice to rearrange
Poetry in motion
All that I adore
No number-nine love potion
Could make me love he more
Oh
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa
Dinsdag 21 maart 1989
Ne Mogu Skriti Svoju Bol
Ne Mogu Skriti Svoju Bol
First performance by: Ambasadori - 1976
Voljela tebe samo sam ja
Kako da bol skrijem svoj
kako da bol sad skrijem svoj
prazni su dani, a nisi moj
prazni su dani, a nisi moj
nekad smo bili samo mi
nekad smo bili samo mi
al' ode onog ljeta, u oku osta sjeta
Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja
Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja
Kuda li sad lutas ti
kuda sada lutas ti
hladan mi vjetar krade san
hladan vjetar krade san
kako je bila topla noc
kako je bila topla noc
kad ode onog ljeta, u oku osta sjeta
Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja
Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja
Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja
Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja
Dinsdag 21 maart 1989
Poetry & Jazz
Poetry & Jazz
Performer(s): John Otway
She said "It's hard for me to explain to you
the brightness of the light
I can still remember when my life was like that
A real and painless beauty I remember as a kid
When I thought that I knew everything and in a way I did
She was a virgin then, a child in a million
With deep round hazel eyes of bazing intuition
She called me over to her side and said "Will you please listen
I wanna show you something and it's something I've just written
And I'm calling it Poetry & Jazz"
She watched her happy family turn to a broken home
Her father left with someone else, her mother on her own
Her fourteenth birthday, her mother spent in tears
She celebrated on her own, her adolescent years.
It was hell then, caught in the crossfire
Of an emotional triangle she couldn't keep together
I heard her softly as she sobbed upon my shoulder
Saying "As you are the closest thing I've got to a brother
Explain to me why is life so sad"
Sixteen was better 'cause sixteen was boys
Make-up parties alcohol and clothes
And saying to your boyfriend "Come on get out of bed
Look, its three o clock in the afternoon and my mother's coming back"
And she smiled then, her eyes filled with laughter
She didn't know if it was love, but it didn't really matter
She called me on the phone and said "Hey get this big brother
I just got rid of one boyfriend and got myself another
And listen, this one drives a Jag"
She left school and boyfriends for university
Three years of study for an art degree
Her clothes were outrageous her hair was many colours
Her work was radical and so were her ideas
She said "This is brilliant this place is heaven
On a score of one to ten, I'd give this place eleven
It kicks you up the ass and it fires you with ambition
I often used to feel as if my life was just a prison
Now I realise it isn't quite that bad"
I was invited to an exhibition a little while ago
To an art gallery in Paris where she has a studio
She looked sophisticated she was wearing a bronze tan
And she'd sold all her work for some outrageous sum
And I looked at her and I started laughing
I said look you're supposed to be an artist you're supposed to be suffering
And she just smiled back and pointed to this painting
Of a young girl around which she'd written out this poem
She'd shown me once called Poetry & Jazz
My name is Angela I am twelve years old
I've given up on working hard and doing as I'm told
I see a child psychologist who's spotted in my head
A recipe for delinquency or something just as bad
But I'll fight for my independence
I see the world in another way to my teachers and my parents
My priorities are different and my life is not as aimless
I am not disruptive and I'm not dangerous
I've rhythm and purpose like poetry & jazz
She said "It's hard for me to explain to you, the brightness of the light
I can still remember when my life was like that
A real and painless beauty I remember as a kid
When I thought that I knew everything and in a way I did
Maandag 20 maart 1989
Smokey Mountain Rain
Smokey Mountain Rain
Composer(s): Kye Fleming; Dennis Morgan
Performer(s): Ronnie Milsap; T.G. Sheppard
I found my way from LA back to Knoxville
I found out those bright lights aint where I belong
From a phone booth in the rain I called to tell her
I've had a change of dreams I'm comin' home
But tears filled my eyes when I found out she was gone
Smokey Mountain rain keeps on fallin'
I keep on callin' her name
Smokey Mountain rain I'll keep on searchin'
I can't go on hurtin' this way
She's somewhere in the Smokey Mountain rain
I waved a diesel down outside of Cathey
He said that he was goin' as far a Catlenburgh
I climbed up in the cab all wet and cold and lonely
I wiped my eyes and told him about her
I've got to find her!
Can you make these big wheels burn?
Smokey Mountain rain keeps on fallin'
I keep on callin' her name
Smokey Mountain rain I'll keep on searchin'
I can't go on hurtin' this way
She's somewhere in the Smokey Mountain rain
I can't blame her for lettin' go
A woman needs someone warm to hold
I feel the rain runnin' down my face
I'll find her no matter what it takes!
Smokey Mountain rain keeps on fallin'
I keep on callin' her name
Smokey Mountain rain I'll keep on searchin'
I can't go on hurtin' this way
She's somewhere in the Smokey Mountain rain
Maandag 20 maart 1989
Poète, Vos Papiers!
Poète, Vos Papiers!
Composer(s): Léo Ferré
Performer(s): Léo Ferré
Bipède volupteur de lyre
Epoux châtré de Polymnie
Vérolé de lune à confire
Grand-Duc bouillon des librairies
Maroufle à pendre à l'hexamètre
Voyou décliné chez les Grecs
Albatros à chaîne et à guêtres
Cigale qui claque du bec
Poète, vos papiers!
Poète, vos papiers!
J'ai bu du Waterman et j'ai bouffé Littré
Et je repousse du goulot de la syntaxe
A faire se pâmer les précieux à l'arrêt
La phrase m'a poussé au ventre comme un axe
J'ai fait un bail de trois six neuf aux adjectifs
Qui viennent se dorer le mou à ma lanterne
Et j'ai joué au casino les subjonctifs
La chemise à Claudel et les cons dits "modernes"
Syndiqué de la solitude
Museau qui dévore du couic
Sédentaire des longitudes
Phosphaté des dieux chair à flic
Colis en souffrance à la veine
Remords de la Légion d'honneur
Tumeur de la fonction urbaine
Don Quichotte du crève-cœur
Poète, vos papiers!
Poète, Papier!
Le dictionnaire et le porto à découvert
Je débourre des mots à longueur de pelure
J'ai des idées au frais de côté pour l'hiver
A rimer le bifteck avec les engelures
Cependant que Tzara enfourche le bidet
A l'auberge dada la crotte est littéraire
Le vers est libre enfin et la rime en congé
On va pouvoir poétiser le prolétaire
Spécialiste de la mistoufle
Emigrant qui pisse aux visas
Aventurier de la pantoufle
Sous la table du Nirvana
Meurt-de-faim qui plane à la Une
Ecrivain public des croquants
Anonyme qui s'entribune
A la barbe des continents
Poète, vos papiers!
Poète, documenti!
Littérature obscène inventée à la nuit
Onanisme torché au papier de Hollande
Il y a partouze à l'hémistiche mes amis
Et que m'importe alors Jean Genet que tu bandes
La poétique libérée c'est du bidon
Poète prends ton vers et fous-lui une trempe
Mets-lui les fers aux pieds et la rime au balcon
Et ta muse sera sapée comme une vamp
Citoyen qui sent de la tête
Papa gâteau de l'alphabet
Maquereau de la clarinette
Graine qui pousse des gibets
Châssis rouillé sous les démences
Corridor pourri de l'ennui
Hygiéniste de la romance
Rédempteur falot des lundis
Poète, vos papiers!
Poète, salti!
Que l'image soit rogue et l'épithète au poil
La césure sournoise certes mais correcte
Tu peux vêtir ta Muse ou la laisser à poil
L'important est ce que ton ventre lui injecte
Ses seins oblitérés par ton verbe arlequin
Gonfleront goulûment la voile aux devantures
Solidement gainée ta lyrique putain
Tu pourras la sortir dans la Littérature
Ventre affamé qui tend l'oreille
Maraudeur aux bras déployés
Pollen au rabais pour abeille
Tête de mort rasée de frais
Rampant de service aux étoiles
Pouacre qui fait dans le quatrain
Masturbé qui vide sa moelle
A la devanture du coin
Poète .... circulez!
Circulez poète!
Circulez!
Zondag 19 maart 1989
Smokey Mountain Boy
Smokey Mountain Boy
Composer(s): Lenore Rosenblatt; Victor Millrose
Performer(s): Elvis Presley
I'm just a Smokey mountain boy
Come back to the hills I love
Where the tops of pine all bend in the wind
And the deep blue sky above
The closer and closer I get to home
The more excited I am
Those were the mornings I'd roll out of bed
Start the day off with a hot corn bread
Smothered in huckleberry jam
I'm just a Smokey mountain boy
Come back to the hills I love
Where the tops of pine all bend in the wind
And the deep blue sky above
I can almost hear the hounds running through the woods
Close on the trail of the hare
How I long to be with them following the hounds
a-huntin' again
Gettin' me a big old grizzly bear
I'm just a Smokey mountain boy
Come back to the hills I love
Where the tops of pine all bend in the wind
And the deep blue sky above
I traveled around and met lots of girls
No matter how many I see
I left some pretty ones behind
I know back home is where I'll find
The girl whose love is meant for me
I'm just a Smokey mountain boy
Come back to the hills I love
Where the tops of pine all bend in the wind
And the deep blue sky above
Zondag 19 maart 1989
Poète
Poète
Performer(s): Claude Barzotti
Poète, les oiseaux se sont tus
et elle a disparu comme un bateau en mer
Poète, toi qui sais de ta plume chasser même la brume
dis-moi ce qu'il faut faire
Poète, dis-moi les mots qu'il faut lui dire
pour qu'elle revienne pour lui dire que je l'aime
Poète, si tu ne m'aides pas, mon amour s'en ira
les mots souffle-les moi
Poète, souffle-moi quelques mots
Fais-moi Victor Hugo, fais-moi Rimbaud
Aide-moi, je t'en supplie, elle est ma vie
Les mots pour la reprendre, je veux les apprendre
Poète, aide-moi ou je sombre, je vis dans la pénombre lorsque je suis loin d'elle
Poète, Prestidigitateur, ton métier de parleur, donne m'en les ficelles
Poète, Donne-moi du talent pour dompter l'ouragan qui ravage nos têtes
Poète, il n'y a que toi qui peut sécher les larmes aux yeux de la fille que j'aime
Poète, souffle-moi quelques mots
Fais-moi Victor Hugo, fais-moi Rimbaud
Aide-moi, je t'en supplie, elle est ma vie
Les mots pour la reprendre, je veux les apprendre
Poète, use de ta magie, souffle-moi de je t'en prie des mots choisis
Je suis perdu sans toi, oh aide-moi
Les mots qu'elle veut entendre, je veux les apprendre
Poète, souffle-moi quelques mots
Poète:
Dis-lui qu'elle est ta voile
Dis-lui qu'elle est ton gouvernail
Dis-lui que tu seras son matelot
Où qu'elle soit, où qu'elle aille
Parle-lui d'émotions
Parle-lui de tendresse
Dis-lui qu'elle est ta maison
Et ta dernière adresse
Poète, la magie de tes mots, l'ont fait fondre en sanglot et elle est revenue
Zaterdag 18 maart 1989
Toi, La Musique Et Moi
Toi, La Musique Et Moi
Composer(s): Gilbert Sinoué; Georges Costa; R. Guitton
First performance by: Mary Cristy - 1976
Et Paris se déchire sous la pluie
Et Paris se déchire dans tes yeux
Dans ta chambre là-haut tu t'ennuies
Tu t'endors comme un clown malheureux
Laisse là ces rues mouillées
Et ces gens toujours pressés
Laisse là ton désespoir et suis-moi
Si tu veux, nous vivrons - toi, la musique et moi
Oui, simplement toi, la musique et moi
Dans un autre univers à fleur de ciel
Si tu veux, nous vivrons - toi, la musique et moi
Oui, simplement toi, la musique et moi
Dans un monde nouveau, presque irréel
Imagine une ville au soleil
Imagine le retour d'un amour
Le sourire d'un enfant qui s'éveille
Une page dans le petit jour
Mon amour, prends-moi la main
Dès demain, nous serons un
N'aie plus peur, n'hésite pas et suis-moi
Si tu veux, nous vivrons - toi, la musique et moi
Oui, simplement toi, la musique et moi
Dans un autre univers à fleur de ciel
Si tu veux, nous vivrons - toi, la musique et moi
Oui, simplement toi, la musique et moi
Dans un monde nouveau, presque irréel
Nous vivrons - toi, la musique et moi
Oui, simplement toi, la musique et moi
Dans un autre univers à fleur de ciel
Si tu veux, nous vivrons - toi, la musique et moi
Oui, simplement toi, la musique et moi
Dans un monde nouveau, presque irréel
La musique et moi
La musique et moi
Zaterdag 18 maart 1989
Poesia
Poesia
Composer(s): P. Casella; Riccardo Cocciante; Marco Luberti
Performer(s): Riccardo Cocciante;
and various other artists
Poesia poesia
sembra che non ci sia
poi ritorni per caso
a quand'eri bambina
e tu
tu correvi cantando
sorridevi per niente
e potevi volare
e tutto questo era
poesia
Poesia poesia
sembra che non ci sia
poi ti prende la mano
e ti porta lontano
con lui
e non sei più bambina
non sorridi per niente
scopri di essere donna
e tutto questo è
poesia
Poesia poesia
sembra che non ci sia
poi ti svegli una notte
e vorresti parlare
con lui
Ti dovresti spiegare
e non sai cosa dire
che è finito l'amore
ma in fondo anche questo
è poesia
Vrijdag 17 maart 1989
Smokey
Smokey
Composer(s): George Clinton; Gary Shider
Performer(s): Funkadelic
Mmm-hmm, looking back at you
Looking back at you
I've lost a lot
You've got a lot
Miss you a lot
I miss you
(x2)
A-ha-ha-hey, Smokey, when I speak your name
Ah, Smokey, you do something to my brain
Hey, Smokey, I'm like a dog on your chain
Smokey baby, you got me singing this sweet refrain
Looking back at you
I've lost a lot
You've got a lot
Miss you a lot
I miss you
(x2)
Hold on, Smokey, baby, I love you
Hold on, Smokey, baby, I can feel you go
Ah, hold on, Smokey baby
Smokey baby, you got me playing this sweet refrain
Smokey baby, you got me playing this sweet refrain
Looking back at you
I've lost a lot
You've got a lot
Miss you a lot
Whoa-whoa-whoa whoa whoa-whoa
(x15)
Vrijdag 17 maart 1989
Poen
Poen
Performer(s): Wim Sonneveld
refr.:
Poen, poen, poen, poen
De een zegt geld, de ander money, maar wij zeggen poen
Poen, poen, poen, poen
't Zal je gedacht zijn wat je allemaal met poen ken doen
Je hoort vaak zeggen dat geluk niet zo te koop is
Maar geld doet wonderen en vooral als 't een hoop is
Poen, poen, poen, poen
Poen, poen, poen, poen, poen poen
Een duppie is een beissie, een kwartje is een heitje
Een gulden is een piek en een rijksdaalder heet een knaak
Een tientje is een joetje, vijfentwintig is een geeltje
Maar hoe heet nou een lap van honderd gulden, meier, raak
refr.
Een jongen is een gozer, een meissie is een grietje
Ze doft zich lekker op wanneer ze aan de scharrel gaat
Een kleurtje op d're waffel, wat poeier op d'r snufferd
D'r gozer zegt verliefd: "Nou ben je net een pijpie kruit"
refr.
Je hoort vaak zeggen dat geluk niet zo te koop is
Maar geld doet wonderen en vooral als 't een hoop is
Poen, poen, poen, poen
Poen, poen, poen, poen, poen poen
Donderdag 16 maart 1989
Smoke Rings
Smoke Rings
Composer(s): Gene Gifford
Performer(s): The Mills Brothers
Tell me where do they go
These smoke rings I blow each night?
What do they do these circles of blue and white?
And why do they seem to picture a dream of love?
Why do they fade my phantom parade of love?
Where do they end, the smoke rings I send on high?
Where are they hurled when they've kissed the world good-bye?
Oh, I'd give my life to laugh at this stife below
I'd be a king, I'd follow each ring I blow
Puff, puff, puff, puff your cares away
Puff, puff, puff night and day
Blow, blow them through the air, silky little rings
Blow, blow them ev'rywhere, give your troubles wings
What do they tell and what is the spell they cast?
Some of them fall and seem to recall the past
But most of them rise away to the skies of blue
Oh, little smoke rings I love
Please take me above, take me with you
Donderdag 16 maart 1989
Poems, Prayers And Promises
Poems, Prayers And Promises
Composer(s): John Denver
Performer(s): John Denver;
and various other artists
I've been lately thinking about my life's time
All the things I've done and how it's been
And I can't help believin' in my own mind
I know I'm gonna hate to see it end
I've seen a lot of sunshine, slept out in the rain
Spent a night or two all on my own
I've known my lady's pleasures had myself some friends
Spent a time or two in my own home
I have to say it now it's been a good life, all in all
It's really fine to have a chance to hang around
Lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire
While all my friends and my old lady, sit and pass a pipe around
(alt- sit and watch the sun go down)
And talk of poems and prayers and promises
And things that we believe in
How sweet it is to love someone
How right it is to care
How long it's been since yesterday
What about tomorrow and what about our dreams
And all the memories we share
Days they pass so quickly now, the nights are seldom long
Time around me whispers when it's cold
The changes somehow frightens me, still I have to smile
It turns me on to think of growing old
Although my life's been good to me, there's still so much to do
So many things my mind has never known
I'd like to raise a family, I'd like to sail away
And dance across the mountains on the moon
I have to say it now it's been a good life, all in all
It's really fine to have a chance to hang around
Lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire
While all my friends and my old lady, sit and pass a pipe around
(alt.: sit and watch the world turn 'round)
And talk of poems and prayers and promises
And things that we believe in
How sweet it is to love someone
How right it is to care
How long it's been since yesterday
What about tomorrow and what about our dreams
And all the memories we share
Woensdag 15 maart 1989
Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette)
Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette)
(French Version: Fume Cette Cigarette - 1974)
Composer(s): Merle Travis; Tex Williams
First release by: Tex Williams - 1947
Covered by multiple other artists
Now I'm a fellow with a heart of gold
And the ways of a gentleman I've been told
Kind-of-a-guy that wouldn't even harm a flea
But if me and a certain character met
The guy that invented that cigarette
I'd murder that son-of-a gun in the first degree
It ain't cuz I don't smoke 'em myself
and i don't reckon that it'll hinder your health
I smoked 'em all my life and I ain't dead yet
But nicotine slaves are all the same
at a pettin' party or a poker game
Everything gotta stop while they have a cigarette
Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff until you smoke yourself to death
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta have another cigarette
In a game of chance the other night
Old dame fortune was good and right
The kings and queens they kept on comin' around
Aw, I was hittin' em good and bettin' 'em high
But my bluff didn't work on a certain guy
He kept callin' and layin' his money down
See, he'd raise me then I'd raise him
and I'd say to him buddy ya gotta sink or swim
Finally called me but didn't raise the bet!
-- Hmmph! I said Aces Full Pal -- I got you!
He said, "I'll pay up in a minute or two
But right now, i just gotta have another cigarette"
Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff until you smoke yourself to death
Now the other night I had a date
with the cutest little gal in any state
A high-bred, uptown, fancy little dame
She said she loved me and it seemd to me
That things were sorta like they oughtta be
So hand in hand we strolled down lovers lane
She was a long way from a chunk of ice
And our pettin' party was goin' real nice
And I got an idea I might have been there yet
So I give her a kiss and a little squeeze
Then she said, "Travis, Excuse me Please
But I just gotta have a cigarette"
Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff until you smoke yourself to death
Woensdag 15 maart 1989
Poema Para Lydia
Poema Para Lydia
Performer(s): Victor Heredia
Canto este poema por tu amor
y es un cielo que se desprendió
y ha echado a andar
Mi soledad irá por vos
y llamará con triste voz
Lydia susurrará la brisa
por el ventanal
y temblará tu corazón
al recordar
ya que solo supe serle fiel
al regazo tibio de tu piel
Quiero arañar la tempestad
quiero saber si el colmenar
aún da su miel
Lydia susurrará la brisa
por el ventanal
y temblará tu corazón al recordar
Dinsdag 14 maart 1989
Fume Cette Cigarette
Fume Cette Cigarette
((Adapted from: Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette) - 1947))
Composer(s): Merle Travis; Tex Williams; Eddy Mitchell
Performer(s): Eddy Mitchell - 1974
À l'école quand j'étais petit
Les grands se cachaient sous leur lit
Pour fumer en cachette une cigarette
Ils se faufilaient
Sans un bruit
À la faveur de la nuit
Certains d'entre eux fumaient dans les toilettes
Le privilège qu'ils m'accordaient
C'est moi, le petit, qui craquait
Une allumette pour leur cigarette
Fume, fume, fume cette cigarette
Fume, fume, fume, fume cette cigarette
Et j'entends leur voix me dire
Elle revient en souvenir
Pour devenir un homme
Fume cette cigarette
La surveillante des cours du soir
M'a entraîné dans le parloir
Je n'ai pas l'impression d'être à la fête
Elle dit qu'il faut me rattraper
Qu' j'ai besoin d cours particuliers
Qu'elle a toujours maté les fortes têtes
Elle m'a reçu dans son peignoir
M'a demandé si j' voulais boire
Et tendu un paquet de cigarettes
Fume, fume, fume cette cigarette
Fume, fume, fume, fume cette cigarette
Et j'entends sa voix me dire
Elles reviennent en souvenir
Pour devenir un homme
Fume cette cigarette
Mais j'ai vraiment fumé plus tard
Lorsque j'ai vu Humphrey Bogart
Pincer entre ses lèvres une cigarette
Identifié à ce héros
Je marchais en courbant le dos
Je me prenais pour un roi du racket
Je n'ai connu que des déboires
Je rentrais en toussant le soir
Sans la moindre féminine conquête
Fume, fume, fume cette cigarette
Fume, fume, fume, fume cette cigarette
Et j'entends des voix me dire
Elles reviennent en souvenir
Pour devenir un homme
Fume cette cigarette
Il m'arrive souvent de fumer
Des choses plus ou moins bien roulées
Qui n' ressemblent pas toujours aux cigarettes
Je n'ai rien compris et rien vu
Mais un homme je suis devenu
Accroché pour toujours aux cigarettes
Fume, fume, fume cette cigarette
Fume, fume, fume, fume cette cigarette
Et j'entends des voix me dire
Elles reviennent en souvenir
Pour devenir un homme
Fume cette cigarette
Dinsdag 14 maart 1989
Poema 15
Poema 15
Composer(s): Pablo Neruda; Victor Jara
Performer(s): Victor Jara;
Francesca Ancarola; Mercedes Sosa
Me gustas cuando callas
porque estas como ausente
y me oyes desde lejos
y mi voz no te toca
parece que los ojos
se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso
te cerrara la boca
Me gustas cuando callas
y ahi estas como distante
y estas como quejandote
mariposa del arrullo
y me oyes desde lejos
y mi voz no te alcanza
dejame que me calle
con el silencio tuyo
Dejame que te hable
tambien con tu silencio
claro como una lampara
simple como un anillo
te pareces a la noche
callada y constelada
tu silencio, otra estrella
tan lejana y sencillo
Me gustas cuando callas
porque estas como ausente
distante y dolorosa
como si hubieras muerto
una palabra entonces
una sonrisa bastan
y estoy alegre
alegre de que no sea cierto
Maandag 13 maart 1989
Uma Flor De Verde Pinho
