La Musique Qui Marche au Pas, Cela ne M'intéresse Pas (Brassens)

 

 

 

Dormir seul

Mais se réveiller en

Compagnie d’un rêve

Qu’on ne se rappelle plus

Mais qui nous donne

L’espoir

De dormir seul

Encore une fois

 

Et pourtant

Quand on forme une bande

On se laisse perdre

Et on perd

Celle qui  ne fut jamais

La nôtre

 

Alors

Il se faut rester seul

Pour prendre à nos lèvres

Le nom qui comme un verre

Qui

Contient le son des soupirs

 

De jadis

Et qui nous hante

A travers nos passages et nos rencontres

 

Il faut accepter

Que la solitude nous laisse

Sans abris

Sans savoir comment

Mais qu’on se retrouve

Au milieu des foules

Qui ont déjà

Oublié

 

Mais quand l’heure sonne

Ou alors on croit l’entendre sonner

On se roule doucement

Et on se perd

Dans la bande de perdus

Dans cette foule

D’ingrats

 

 

Qui force à nos lèvres

Comme un verre de Bohême

Un vide

Qui

Ne contient plus

 

Ce qu’on avait gardé

En secret

Toute une vie

De troubadour

 

Le 16 Août 2021

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2021

 

J’ai pris cette photo au Costa Rica avec in Yashica 124

Every Form is a Base for Colour, Every Colour is the Attribute of a Form. (Victor Vasarely)

 

I have often eaten at the Fortuna Passage in Buda where traditional food is made for local people. My favorite is wild boar stew.

It was a cold day in Buda and my leather hat made me stand out in the crowd. 

When we sat down, and took my hat off, she said that I looked like one of the local men.

I ordered a beer, and she went for red wine.

 

“There are four types of people," she continued. "Beer drinkers, wine drinkers, vodka drinkers, and those who drink all three"

 

"What is the difference?" I wondered.

 

"Those who drink all three do so alone," she explained. "They drink only water in public."

 

Somehow that reminded me of a Loudon Wainwright song lyrics about a skunk smashed on the road:

 

Crossin' the highway late last night
He shoulda looked left and he shoulda looked right

.

“We all like to have secrets," I agreed. "But few of us have them for long. Eventually we drink water when alone too, don't we?"

 

"Yes, eventually," she murmured looking at an old man dragging his walking cane on the floor as he entered the restaurant. 

 

... I have stayed in Buda during most of my visits. I prefer the view of the Danube from atop the hill next to the Castle. And the Egri Bikaver somehow tastes better in popular taverns there.

"Bull's Blood dries your mouth easily," she noticed. "The bottle of cold water next to your glass will help you sleep better after the wine."

 

... I shoulda have looked left and shouda have looked right. But I shut my eyes and looked inward.

 

August 9, 2021

 

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2021