- Books, Literature, and Writing
Oh Poetry,my wine
La Môme Piaf ,by Greta Lain
Mother was singing
Father was struggling,
on a rope,drunk acrobat.
I was just there,breathing,
Belleville's pavements were gray
but pale rose,were my dreams.
I had no dreams back then
came later,voiced words
through my mouth,La Marseillaise
Je Repars A Zéro-
Give me strength Sainte Thérèse
I want to see again,to have eyes
and see.The brothel is full of blind images,
hedonist men.Grandma is here.
-You will see again ma petite.
You have to see the wheel of Fortune,
I am turning for you.
Oh Yes!I see!Fires and acrobats,
trampolines and red and white tents,
a circus caravan and my living there.
I have a voice,pale
with strength and courage.
I have two legs that i can step on
I have a voice that people pay for
I have a life to live for .
Ah Oui!Parlons en de la térre!-
I sing,Feeling Alive
my hands,i feel,i can touch the sky.
Lovers,Friends ,la fumeè,
l'alcool et les bouchones de champagne
1949,L'Hymne à L'Amour-
Marcel,what morphine to heal me?
What song to sing me?
What cross to save me?
My feet are feeling the sand,
Of a heated beach.A plane,
above my head,taking my foulard away.
Eyes that were gazing into mine.
Non! Je ne Regrette Rien!-
I continue to live in order to sing.
My veins are pierced a thousand times.
As Long As I Sing.
Sainte Thérèse,Avec mes souvenirs,
If i rest now,find my daughter
A woolen basket waiting
For me in your arms.
Do Not Close The Curtains!!
I Want To Sing!!
La Vie En Rose.