This starts almost like elevator music, but it quickly becomes orgasmic.




Je l'salue les mains dans les poches
Le cœur dans la gorge
Une semaine m'a semblé un an
Il s'assit tout à côté de moi
Ma peau commence à brûler
Et je cache mes joues rouges
Ses yeux s'allument
Je fais la fière devant tous ses copains
Mes lèvres tremblent au souvenir
D'une nuit blanche dans ses bras
D'une nuit blanche dans ses bras

Il fait de moi un gosse
Je me perds, je me perds dans son sourire
Il fait de moi une femme
Je me noie, je me noie dans son corps

La chambre commence à se vider
J'suis paralysée
Je n'le regarde pas
Il me met la main sur la joue
Mon visage est tout chaud
Et ma bouche est excitée
Ses yeux s'allument
Je fonds en dedans, je me sens si chanceuse
Mes lèvres tremblent au souvenir
D'une nuit blanche dans ses bras
D'une nuit blanche dans ses bras

Il fait de moi un gosse
Je me perds, je me perds dans son sourire
Il fait de moi une femme
Je me noie, je me noie dans son corps
Il fait de moi un gosse
Je me perds, je me perds dans son sourire
Il fait de moi une femme
Je me noie, je me noie dans son corps

Happy V-D :broken:

https://youtu.be/Y9JiONnrQqI

I put a spell on you
'Cause you're mine

You better stop the things you do
I ain't lyin'
No, I ain't lyin'

You know I can't stand it
You're runnin' around
You know better daddy
I can't stand it cause you put me down
Yeah, Yeah

I put a spell on you
Because you're mine
You're mine

I love ya
I love you
I love you
I love you anyhow
And I don't care
If you don't want me
I'm yours right now

You hear me
I put a spell on you
Because ...
you're mine

"I Put A Spell On You" (2:34)
I Put A Spell On You, 1965
written by Jay Hawkins, 1956
performed by Nina Simone

Nick Cave and the bad seeds.
I don't know about deep, but its kinda philosophical.

Opium Tea

Here I sleep the morning through
Until the call to prayer awakes me
And there is nothing at all to do but rise
And follow the day wherever it takes me
I stand at the window and look at the sea
Then I make me a pot of opium tea

Down at the port I watch the boats come in
Watching boats come in can do something to you
And the kids gather round with outstretched hand
And I toss them a diram or two
And I wonder if my children are thinking of me
For I am what I am and what will be will be
I wonder if my kids are thinking of me
And I smile and I sip my opium tea

At night the sea lashes the rust red ramparts
And the shapes of hooded men move past me
And the mad moaning wind, it laughs and it laughs
At the strange lot that fate has cast me
And the cats on the rampart sing merrily
That I am what I am and what will be will be
The cats on the rampart sing merrily
And I sit and I drink my opium tea

I'm a prisoner here, I can never go home
There is nothing here to win or to lose
There are no choices needing to be made at all
Not even the choice of having to choose
I am a prisoner, yes, but I am also free
'Cause I am what I am and what will be will be
I'm a prisoner here, yes, but I'm also free
And I smile and I sip my opium tea

'Deep' is relative. Here it tends to mean: anything deeper than Beyoncé. This means even Ariana Grande may qualify. Nick Cave passes the bar any day.


This is about death, a subject often touched upon by Brassens but as usual with him its a funny song that puts a nice spin on the whole idea of dying, as long as you rest in the right spot.


Plea to be buried on the beach at Sète

The Grim Reaper who never forgave me
For having sown flowers in the holes of his nose
Is pursuing me with foolish zeal
And so surrounded closely by burials
I saw it fit to update my will
To pen down a codicil

Dip in the blue ink of the Gulf of Lion
Dip deep your quil, oh my old tabellion
And with your most beautiful handwriting
Note what ought to happen to my body
When my soul and he will no longer agree
But on a single point: the break-up

When my soul takes its flight on the horizon
Towards those of Gavroche and Mimi Pinson
Those of stray cats and street boys
May my body be brought back to the native soil
In a Paris-Méditerranée sleeper train
Terminus at Sète station

My family vault, alas, is not brand new
Commonly speaking, it's as full as an egg
And by the time someone gets out
It may be late and I can't tell
These good people to push themselves a bit
Make room for the youth, if you will

Right by the sea, a stone's throw from the blue waves
Dig if possible a soft little hole
A small comfortable niche
Nearby my childhood friends, the dolphins
Along this shore where the sand is so fine
On the Corniche Beach

It's a beach where, even when he's furious
Neptune never takes himself too seriously
Where when a ship wrecks
The captain shouts "I am the master on board,
Save your souls, wine and pastis first,
Everyone gets his own bottle and courage!"

And that's where once at the age of fifteen
When having fun alone is no longer enough
I knew my first passion
From a mermaid, a siren
I received, of love, the first lesson
Swallowed the first fishbone

With all due respect for Paul Valéry
I, the humble troubadour, rise on him
The good master will forgive me
But at least, if his verses are better than mine
Let my cemetery be more marine than his
No matter what the locals opine

This tomb, sandwiched between water and sky
Won't give a sad mood to the scene
But instead an indefinable charm
Bathers will use it as a screen
To change outfits and little children
Will say: "Look, a sand castle!"

Is it too much to ask? On my little plot
Please plant some kind of pine
Umbrella pine by preference
That will shield against sunstroke
The good friends coming on my concession
For affectionate reverences

Sometimes from Spain, sometimes from Italy
All loaded with perfumes and pretty musics
The Mistral and the Tramontane [local winds]
On my last sleep will pour the echoes
Of villanelle one day, one day of fandango
Of tarantella, of sardana

And when, taking my mound for a pillow
A mergirl will gently come to rest
With less than nothing for costume
I ask forgiveness in advance to Jesus
If the shadow of my cross leans slightly on her
For a little posthumous pleasure

Poor pharaoh kings, poor Napoleon
Poor great heros lying in the Pantheon
Poor ashes of consequence
You will come to envy the eternal holidayer
Who rides the wave dreaming
Who spends his death on vacation

'Deep' is relative. Here it tends to mean: anything deeper than Beyoncé. This means even Ariana Grande may qualify. Nick Cave passes the bar any day. — Olivier5

Ha, Ha. :smile: Its interesting how people who gravitate toward deeper conversation, also prefer deeper music. Good thread, Its introduced me to some deep artists that I wasn't aware of.

These two galls have nice chemistry.

Birds do it, bees do it
Even educated fleas do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

In Spain, the best upper sets do it
Lithuanians and Letts do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

The Dutch in old Amsterdam do it
Not to mention the Finns
Folks in Siam do it; think of Siamese twins

Some Argentines without means do it
People say in Boston even beans do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

Romantic sponges, they say, do it
Oysters down in Oyster Bay do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

Cold Cape Cod clams 'gainst their wish do it
Even lazy jellyfish do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

Electric eels, I might add, do it
Though it shocks 'em I know
Why ask if shads do it? Waiter, bring me shad roe

In shallow shoals English soles do it
Goldfish in the privacy of bowls do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

:cool:

Compare the lyrics with this song....

[Verse 1]
Well, the crickets get it
And the ants get it
I bet you the pigs get it
Yeah, even the plants get it
Come on now, and get with it
Yeah, I want you to get with it
Oh!
Yeah, I just want you to get with it

[Chorus]
'Cause every worm that's under your shoe
And every bird and bug in the jungle, too
And everything in the ocean blue
They just happen to know exactly what to do

So why don't you?
Yeah, why don't you?

[Verse 2]
The flies get it
And the frogs get it
And all them big jungle cats get it
And I bet your little dog gets it
Yeah, I want you to get with it
Yeah, come on, and get with it
Whoo!
Yeah, I just want you to get with it

[Chorus]
'Cause every worm that's under your shoe
And every bird and bee in the jungle, too
And everything in the ocean blue
They just happen to know exactly what to do
So why don't you?
Yeah, why don't you?

[Verse 3]
And all the chickens get it
And them singing canaries get it

Whoo!
Even strawberries get it
I want you to get with it
Yeah, I want you to get with it
Yeah!
Yeah, I just want you to get with it

[Chorus]
'Cause every worm that's under your shoe
And every bird and bee in the jungle, too
And everything in the ocean blue
They just happen to know exactly what to do
So why don't you?
Yeah, why don't you?



Inspiration? Or rip-off?

I love the White Stripes, and would rather see this as an homage or a citation.

Same here. I hadn’t heard the song you posted before, but wondered if anyone else had made this connection (between the two songs) before.

This is not philosophical song but maybe interesting. A simple children's song probably centuries old. It doesn't seem to mean anything but I discovered the meaning by acccident during the war.

If you already know the meaning then tell me and I will discontinue this
.
Peas porridge hot
Peas porridge cold
Peas porridge in the pot. Nine days old.
Some like it hot
Some like it cold
Some like it in the pot Nine days old.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti 1919-2021 (today)

It was a face which darkness could kill
in an instant
a face as easily hurt
by laughter or light

'We think differently at night'
she told me once
lying back languidly

And she would quote Cocteau

'I feel there is an angel in me' she'd say
'whom I am constantly shocking'

Then she would smile and look away
light a cigarette for me
sigh and rise

and stretch
her sweet anatomy

let fall a stocking. — No. 8, Pictures of the Gone World (1955)

Okay, not super deep but there's an effort.


Téléphone - Le Temps (Time)

You clever sand grain watching your friends
Fall one by one to the bottom of the hourglass
Cock-sure sand grain that watches others go by
Don't forget to forget that you too will pass

The glass tunnel
That opens under your feet
Will make you meet your future, your past
Because Time, He doesn't wait
No Time is that very moment
Time, He doesn't exist, no
Time is what you will do with it
Take it!

Baby sand grain who makes big sand castles
With the wet sand left over from your past
You are waiting for the reigning hand that will turn the hourglass over
You wait, you still think you're on the right side

The glass tunnel
That opens under your feet
Will make you forget your future, your past.
Time doesn't wait
No, Time is that moment
Time does not exist
No no no
Time is what you will do with it

And the minutes pass and the seconds pass
This song needs to end, but will never end
'Cause this grain that don't fall could very well be you

https://youtu.be/nDqP7kcr-sc (480:00)

:yawn:

"Fascinating. If my suspicion is correct, there can be no response to this message."

:yikes:

"Now wait just a damn minute!"

:sweat:

An old French stand up, on racism.



Hey! I'm not a fool, I'm a customs officer...

I don't like foreigners, they come to eat the bread of the French ... ouais!

It's curious: as a profession, I'm a customs officer, but I don't like foreigners...

When I see a stranger, if he is eating some bread, I say to him: "this is MY bread!" Since I'm French, and then he eats the bread of the French so it's MY bread to me...

I don't like foreigners because I'm French, and I'm proud to be French.

My name is Koularkientensky on my mother's side and Piazzano-Venditti on the side of a friend of my father. That should tell you how French I am!

I don't like foreigners... In the village where I live, we have a foreigner, so when we see him pass, we say: "Here, look at that: it's the foreigner". We point at him, like an object... We have no respect. When we have respect for a human being, we do not say "that" about him. One would say: "Look at this monsieur" ... But he's a foreigner, he comes to eat the bread of the French.

When his wife passes by, her head bowed, with her little children who bow their heads too; we say: "Look at that, it's the foreigners: they come to eat the bread of the French."

The other Sunday, in my village, it was at the ten o'clock mass - I was at the cafe opposite the church, to receive communion. There was the stranger who wanted to talk to me. I had so much to do, too much to do to talk with a stranger! I had my work to think of... I am a customs officer. I am not a fool.

Finally, from the height of my greatness, being a civil servant, I deigned to listen to him, this imbecile (he is a foreigner, of course).

He said to me, uh: "Don't you think that in our time [1972], it's a little ridiculous to call some people strangers, since we are all equal? This is what I had in mind, what I wanted to tell you, Officer, you who are a civil servant and very important, you who have the shield of the law... We are all equal. We can prove it to you: when a surgeon operates on a human heart, whether in Cape Town, Geneva, Washington, Moscow, Beijing, he does it the same way: we are all equal."

The idiot! Come and disturb me to say such nonsense !!! He continued... These foreigners are so stupid, they come to eat the bread of the French.

He said to me ... uh ...: "Do you know a race where a mother loves her child more or less than in another race?"

There, I did not understand what he meant... I concluded that he was a fool. Indeed, when someone expresses himself and we do not understand what he is saying, that is because he is stupid!

And I can't be stupid, I'm a customs officer... "Go away, stranger!" I told him.

He replied: “I'm fed up with you, your bread and your France. I am leaving." He took his wife, his suitcase, his children, they got on a boat, they sailed far away beyond the seas...

And, since that day, in our village, we don't have bread anymore.

He was our baker !!!

I hate the world today
You're so good to me
I know but I can't change
Tried to tell you
But you look at me like maybe
I'm an angel underneath
Innocent and sweet

Yesterday I cried
You must have been relieved
To see the softer side
I can understand how you'd be so confused
I don't envy you
I'm a little bit of everything
All rolled into one

I'm a bitch
I'm a lover
I'm a child
I'm a mother
I'm a sinner
I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell
I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
You know you wouldn't want it any other way

So take me as I am
This may mean you'll have to be a stronger man
Rest assured that when I start to make you nervous
And I'm going to extremes
Tomorrow I will change
And today won't mean a thing

I'm a bitch, etc.

Just when you think you've got me figured out
The season's already changin'
I think it's cool you do what you do
And don't try to save me

I'm a bitch, etc.

Looking through this brilliant thread, I found this.

Magnifique sans aucun doute :cool:
However, I had my doubts about the translation.
'Too bad for your buttocks'. Vraiment ?! In such a tender song. Pas possible.
But it was.
Will watch the video again. This time armed with parallel translations. All the better to listen...and watch the movements of this superbe trio as they take turns to play the piano and sing.

Alors, merci pour les gens qui doutent:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=qM1XxVZH-I0

I like people who doubt
J'aime les gens qui doutent

People who listen too much
Les gens qui trop écoutent

Their heart sway
Leur coeur se balancer

I like people who say
J'aime les gens qui disent

And who contradict each other
Et qui se contredisent

And without denouncing
Et sans se dénoncer

I like people who tremble
J'aime les gens qui tremblent

That sometimes they don't seem
Que parfois ils ne semblent

Able to judge
Capables de juger

I like people passing by
J'aime les gens qui passent

Half in their shoes
Moitié dans leurs godasses

And half beside
Et moitié à côté

I like their little song
J'aime leur petite chanson

Even if they pass for idiots
Même s'ils passent pour des cons

I like those who panic
J'aime ceux qui paniquent

Those who are not logical
Ceux qui sont pas logiques

Well, not right
Enfin, pas comme il faut

Those who, with their chains
Ceux qui, avec leurs chaînes

So that it doesn't bother us
Pour pas que ça nous gêne

Make a bell noise
Font un bruit de grelot

Those who will not be ashamed
Ceux qui n'auront pas honte

Of not being at the end of the day
De n'être au bout du compte

Only failures of the heart
Que des ratés du coeur

For not having known how to say
Pour n'avoir pas su dire

Deliver us from the worst
Délivrez-nous du pire

And keep the best
Et gardez le meilleur

I like their little song
J'aime leur petite chanson

Even if they pass for idiots
Même s'ils passent pour des cons

I like people who don't dare
J'aime les gens qui n'osent

Make things your own
S'approprier les choses

Even less people
Encore moins les gens

Those who don't want to be
Ceux qui veulent bien n'être

Than a simple window
Qu'une simple fenêtre

For children's eyes
Pour les yeux des enfants

Those who without a banner
Ceux qui sans oriflamme

Colorblind souls
Les daltoniens de l'âme

Ignore colors
Ignorent les couleurs

Those who are quite pears
Ceux qui sont assez poires

So that history never
Pour que jamais l'Histoire

Give them the honors
Leur rende les honneurs

I like their little song
J'aime leur petite chanson

Even if they pass for idiots
Même s'ils passent pour des cons

I like people who doubt
J'aime les gens qui doutent

And would like us to fuck them
Et voudraient qu'on leur foute

Peace from time to time
La paix de temps en temps

And that we don't abuse them
Et qu'on ne les malmène

Never when they walk
Jamais quand ils promènent

Their autumns in spring
Leurs automnes au printemps

Tell them that the soul
Qu'on leur dise que l'âme

Makes better flames
Fait de plus belles flammes

That all these sad asses
Que tous ces tristes culs

And that we thank them
Et qu'on les remercie

Tell them, we shout at them
Qu'on leur dise, on leur crie

Thank you for living
Merci d'avoir vécu

Thank you for the tenderness
Merci pour la tendresse

And too bad for your buttocks
Et tant pis pour vos fesses

Who did what they could
Qui ont fait ce qu'elles ont pu

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Anne Sylvestre

Deshabillez moi - Juliette Greco

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ytgSGyu5JI8

Thanks, it means much to me. It is a beautiful song.

Et tant pis pour vos fesses = too bad for your ass

It is tender but also cruel, or rather, real. In the end, she loves them but ils passent pour des cons. She fondly describes what others call losers or dreamers.

Thanks, it means much to me. It is a beautiful song. — Olivier5

Yes. It is. Unforgettable. My kind of song but would never have found it elsewhere.
Thank you and others for all of this...

Il volo - Zucchero ( live in Verona )

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=XSVoZNy6kPc

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/il-volo-flight.html

Thanks for Juliette. She passed away recently.

One last piano piece, and then I promise something more joyous.


One of Those - Benabar

Here, what are you doing here?
It's me, it's Nathalie
What, you don't you recognize me?
Why, you and I...

We were in high school together
It's true, I have changed
I've got children, a husband
What? you look surprised...

I was not destined
To a tidy life
I was lost
My husband found me

I was one of those
Who never say no
One of those easy girls
Whose name gets forgotten

I was not the pretty one
No, I was her girlfriend
The one you barely saw
Called me "Something"

I was two years older
Maybe two years too old
And I loved boys
Maybe a little too much

Of course you had had
Dozens of conquests
That no one had ever seen
Always during the holidays...

For many of you [boys]
I was your first time
Of those who matter
But not that much

I was not one of those
Who is being courted
Me, I was one of those
Who already agree

You would come to my house
But the next day
You'd refused in public
To hold my hand

When you would kiss me
Always behind closed doors
I knew why
So that no one could see us

So I closed my eyes
Hard enough to split the eyelids
While to watch out
You kept yours open

I repeated to myself:
"I must not fall in love"
You thought to yourself:
"It must not be known"

But once in my arms
Your breathless whispers
It was for me, just for me
That they were intended

Entwined into you
Breathing your hair
I know it, I affirm it
You loved me a little

Some fall in love
It's pure, it elevates them
I was falling in love
Like one falls from a chair

And proud to have done it
You were holding conference
A mouse that you dissected
My body for the science

I was feeding
Your barracks jokes
Which you thought manly
You little cavemen

To have for me
One word of tenderness
Appeared to you
Like the worst weakness

You were boasting
Speaking like experts
Forgetting that in my arms
You looked far more lost

And the other girls
Perfidious little saints
Would have shaved my hair
In another era

Those who are used
To be cajoled
Who ignore loneliness
Whom nothing can console

Thanks for Juliette. She passed away recently. — Olivier5

Oh, sorry to hear that. But what a life...
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juliette_Gréco

To have for me
One word of tenderness
Appeared to you
Like the worst weakness — Olivier5

So sad.

I promise something more joyous. — Olivier5

You have great taste.
J'attends par anticipation...
:sparkle:

Where are you from Amity?


Now for something lighter, though still surprisingly philosophical.


A Storm

If you catch yourself laughing
Only you know why
Like an infection passes
From you to the next guy

Freedom is a simple concept
If you don’t give up on its complexities

Whether it’s forever, a day,
Or just for a moment,
Whether it seems risky,
Whether it's by joke, by mistake or by miracle
As long as it’s a storm
A storm

To take time away from I don’t know what
Isn’t so difficult
It remains unknown however
Just how much you can handle losing

Freedom seems formidable
Like a sleeping volcano

Whether it’s forever, a day
Or just a moment,
Whether it seems risky,
Whether it's by joke, by mistake or by miracle
As long as it’s a storm
A storm

Freedom is a simple concept
If you don’t know what it means

Where are you from Amity? — Olivier5

Devine!

Runrig
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=RJ7f0HUk8OU
Or live:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=pzQ1pNfbe3Q

Or slower and romantic by Ella Roberts
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gb8AGuD2uOI

Historian Murray G. H. Pittock writes that the song "is a Jacobite adaptation of an eighteenth-century erotic song, with the lover dying for his king, and taking only the 'low road' of death back to Scotland."[5] It is one of many poems and songs that emerged from Jacobite political culture in Scotland.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Bonnie_Banks_o%27_Loch_Lomond

Lyrics

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond
Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

O ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak' the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye.
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen,
On the steep, steep side o' Ben Lomond.
Where in deep purple hue, the hieland hills we view,
And the moon comin' out in the gloamin'.

The wee birdies sing and the wild flowers spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping:
But the broken heart, it kens nae second spring again,
Tho' the waefu' may cease from their greeting.

What it is - Mark Knopfler ( about Edinburgh )
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BvAUQsbKnLI

Better here - Live in Rome 2013
With flute at 4.15, violinist having fun too :smile:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=D3vSFF2533k

You a Scot?

:-)

You a Scot? — Olivier5

Vielleicht.
If you like :smile: