Brassens Translation Project
Translating a work of art is rarely literal. Using what I've learned of folk songwriting and storytelling (and what poor French I have shuffling around up there), here are some hot takes on English versions of some of my favorite Brassens tunes.
​
Full Disclosure: It helps to be married to a French woman for this one.
La Chasse aux Papillons
Georges Brassens (© W B MUSIC CORP, 1952)
​
Un bon petit diable à la fleur de l'âge
La jambe légère et l'oeil polisson
Et la bouche plein' de joyeux ramages
Allait à la chasse aux papillons
Comme il atteignait l'orée du village
Filant sa quenouille il vit Cendrillon
Il lui dit "Bonjour, que Dieu te ménage"
J't'emmène à la chasse aux papillons
BRIDGE
Cendrillon ravie de quitter sa cage
Met sa robe neuve et ses botillons
Et bras d'ssus bras d'ssous vers les frais bocages
Ils vont à la chasse aux papillons
Ils ne savaient pas que sous les ombrages
Se cachaient l'amour et son aiguillon
Et qu'il transperçait les coeurs de leur âge
Les coeurs de chasseurs de papillons
Quand il se fit tendre, ell' lui dit "j'présage
Qu' c'est pas dans les plis de mon cotillon
Ni dans l'échancrure de mon corsage
Qu'on va t'à la chasse aux papillons"
Sur sa bouche en feu qui criait: "sois sage"
Il posa sa bouche en guis' de bâillon
Et c'fut l'plus charmant des remue-ménage
Qu'on ait vu d'mémoire de papillons
BRIDGE
Un volcan dans l'âme, ils revinrent au village
En se promettant d'aller des millions,
Des milliards de fois et même davantage
Ensemble à la chasse aux papillons
Mais tant qu'ils s'aim'ront, tant que les nuages
Porteurs de chagrins, les épargneront
Il f'ra bon voler dans les frais bocages
Ils n'f'ront pas la chasse aux papillons
Pas la chasse aux papillons
The Butterfly Hunt
Georges Brassens
(translation by John Coleman Bennett)
​
A pleasant little devil with life in full swing
Nimble in his limbs and mischief in his eye
A mouth full of joyful, jail bound ramblings
Went on a hunt to catch butterflies.
As he reached the edge of a distant hamlet
Spinning in his sin he met Snow White
He said to her “Hello, may some god spare you
And permit you to go hunt for butterflies.
BRIDGE
Snow White excited to leave her sleepy cage
Put on a new dress and boots thigh high
Arm and arm they skipped to the distant garden maze
They’re going on a hunt for butterflies.
Unbeknownst to them, Cupid and his arrow
hiding in the shade of the Fall tree line
Keen to make his mark on a love so narrow
Beating fast as hearts of butterflies.
When he waxed romantic, she was quick to realize
So, speaking with a grin she asked he justify
How searching in her blouse would help them edgewise
Help them on their hunt for butterflies.
Be patient, she said, with a finger to his lips
And he mimicked as she did with an impish, wry smile.
The charm to sit in silence is a momentary ellipse
A pause as brief as thoughts of butterflies.
BRIDGE
Volcanoes in their eyes as they rejoined the village
A pledge to make the trek millions, billions more times
Enduring love’s measured meters and mileage
Until they had caught every butterfly.
As long as there’s a fifth of their fate attraction
May love like theirs fly freely in the countryside
May anyone one of use find even a fraction
Of what they found out there…on their hunt for butterflies.
​