I don’t speak French, but anyone can translate anything on the interwebs, and it appears this song is a summery seaside tale of looking back on summer days by the sea gone by. It’s a bit early for that sort of melancholy take on the season, but such is the space of a coquette summer. And one can’t go very wrong with a song by Brigitte Bardot playing by the pool.
Sur la plage abandonnéeCoquillages et crustacésQui l’eût cru! Déplorent la perte de l’étéQui depuis s’en est alléOn a rangé les vacancesDans des valises en cartonEt c’est triste quand on pense à la saisonDu soleil et des chansons
Pourtant je sais bien l’année prochaineTout refleurira, nous reviendronsMais en attendant je suis en peineDe quitter la mer et ma maison
Le mistral va s’habituerÀ courir sans les voiliersEt c’est dans ma chevelure ébourifféeQu’il va le plus me manquerLe soleil mon grand copainNe me brûlera que de loinCroyant que nous sommes ensemble un peu fâchésD’être tous deux séparés
The mesmerizing spell of summer transcends the boundaries of language. It works its magic through melody and sound, atmosphere and environment, sun and water. A bit of escapism is welcome here. Slowly, I’m finding my way back into the pool after largely avoiding it last year. I sink underwater and listen to that quiet again. A bit of a French bop, some coquettish decadence, and the indulgence of a pool day conspire to captivate the senses. Somehow, in their distracting magic, they remind me to inhabit the moment, to enjoy what is at hand rather than worrying about the past or the future. Only and all of which we can be certain is now – this moment.
