La Boheme

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마치 저 자신이 그들중의 하나인양

몽마르트르의 보헤미안적인 삶과 사랑과 낭만을 꿈꾸곤 했지요....

이 가을과 어울리는 음악이라 올려봅니다...

Artist - Charles Aznavour

Je vous parle d'un temps
Que les moins de vingt ans
Ne peuvent pas connaître
Montmartre en ce temps-là
Accrochait ses lilas
Jusque sous nos fenêtres
Et si l'humble garni
Qui nous servait de nid
Ne payait pas de mine
C'est là qu'on s'est connu
Moi qui criait famine
Et toi qui posais nue

La bohème, la bohème
Ça voulait dire on est heureux
La bohème, la bohème
Nous ne mangions qu'un jour sur deux

Dans les cafés voisins
Nous étions quelques-uns
Qui attendions la gloire
Et bien que miséreux
Avec le ventre creux
Nous ne cessions d'y croire
Et quand quelque bistrot
Contre un bon repas chaud
Nous prenait une toile
Nous récitions des vers
Groupés autour du poêle
En oubliant l'hiver

La bohème, la bohème
Ça voulait dire tu es jolie
La bohème, la bohème
Et nous avions tous du génie

Souvent il m'arrivait
Devant mon chevalet
De passer des nuits blanches
Retouchant le dessin
De la ligne d'un sein
Du galbe d'une hanche
Et ce n'est qu'au matin
Qu'on s'asseyait enfin
Devant un café-crème
Epuisés mais ravis
Fallait-il que l'on s'aime
Et qu'on aime la vie

La bohème, la bohème
Ça voulait dire on a vingt ans
La bohème, la bohème
Et nous vivions de l'air du temps

Quand au hasard des jours
Je m'en vais faire un tour
A mon ancienne adresse
Je ne reconnais plus
Ni les murs, ni les rues
Qui ont vu ma jeunesse
En haut d'un escalier
Je cherche l'atelier
Dont plus rien ne subsiste
Dans son nouveau décor
Montmartre semble triste
Et les lilas sont morts

La bohème, la bohème
On était jeunes, on était fous
La bohème, la bohème
Ça ne veut plus rien dire du tout



Let me tell you about a time that those under twenty couldn't have known. Montmartre in those days was decked with lilacs up to beneath our windows. And so humbley furnished was the place that we made our nest, (even if we sold the furniture) it couldn't even buy a pencil lead. It is there where we got to know each other, I who struggled with hunger and you who posed nude for living.

La Boheme, la Boheme. It means we were happy. La Boheme, la Boheme. We could eat only one day out of two.

In the corner cafes we were somebodies just awaiting glory. Although poor with hollow belly, we didn't stop believing in it. And when some bar took our painting for a good hot meal, we recited lyrics huddled around the stove forgetting the winter cold.

La Boheme, la Boheme. It means you are pretty. La Boheme, la Boheme. And we were all geniuses.

Often I spent sleepless nights in front of my easle retouching the drawing of the line of a bosom, contour of a hip. And it is only in the morning that we sat down finally in front of a latte exhausted but delighted. It was meant to be that we love each other and that we love life.

La Boheme, la Boheme. It means that we were only in our twenties. La Boheme, la Boheme. And we lived the wind of the times.

On some random days when I happen to visit my old address, I can no longer recognize neither the walls, nor the streets which witnessed my younger days. On top of a staircase I look for the atelier of which nothing remains any more. In its new decor Montmartre seems sad. And the lilacs are dead.

La Boheme, la Boheme. We were young, we were insane. La Boheme, la Boheme. It means there's nothing more to say at all.