What's Left Behind Of All Our Love - Poem by Carol Elliott
Translation of the song 'Que Reste-t-il De Nos Amours? '
by Charles Trenet
(I was introduced to this song by Walter Hyatt when we were writing together in Nashville. He performed it once on AUSTIN CITY LIMITS and dedicated it to his high school French teacher. I thought that was so cool! On a trip to Paris I worked on a translation so I could sing it first in French, then English. By the end of the first phrase I'm back at a sidewalk cafe in Paris, sipping espresso and soaking in ambience. I dedicate my translation to my college French professors, Waring McCrady, Jacqueline Schaefer and Scott Bates.)
What's left behind of all our love,
Of those good times, what stays with us,
A photograph, faded but true,
The days of our youth.
What's left behind of April days,
Of tender notes and secret ways,
A never ending memory
Which follows me.
Good times together,
Free as a breeze,
Stolen kisses, sweet reveries.
What's left behind of all of these
Tell me please.
A sleepy town, a church bell rings,
The simple joy that each day brings,
And in a cloud passing so fast...
The days of my past.
Que reste-t-il de nos amours,
Que reste-t-il de ces beaux jours,
Une photo, vieille photo de ma jeunesse.
Que reste-t-il des billets doux
Des mois d'Avril, des rendez-vous,
Un souvenir qui me poursuit sans cesse.
Bonheur fané, cheveux au vent
Baisers volés, rêves mouvants
Que reste-t-il de tout cela, dites-le moi?
Un petit village, un vieux clocher
Un paysage si bien caché
Et dans un nuage, le cher visage de mon passé...
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