Skippin’ Stones (Les ricochets)

I was seventeen
Barely had I been
Out of a farmer’s sight
Not cut out for hay
I headed one day
For the City of Light
Bright-eyed and merry
Off to “Gay Paree”
I left with a suitcase
Peasantry aside
I would now reside
Along the parisian quais
Along the parisian quais.

People do not fret
There is little threat
In a colt on the lam
‘Tis but a young fool
Who’s dyed in the wool
Of a provincial lamb
Lutetia be still
Not today you will
Fall to the Saracen
A would-be poet
Is hedging his bet
By contemplating the Seine
By contemplating the Seine.

Wet behind the ears
I harboured no fears
As I strolled on the banks
Little did I know
That Cupid here no
Longer was shooting blanks
How could have I guessed
What unwelcome guest
Can be a passing flirt
That my heart would burst
For its very first
Parisian in mini-skirt
Parisian in mini-skirt.

Before we get there
Let me tell you where
I spotted my goddess
She was skipping stones
And making no bones
Of her lack of prowess
I might have been green
But knew how to preen
Like a barnyard rooster
When came time to skip
I knew how to flip
Like a champion and master
Like a champion and master.

If you want my aid
And don’t mind a trade
To her did I announce
For taste of your lips
I will give you tips
On making a stone bounce
It was a done deal
She studied with zeal
Until she could not miss
And as for my part
I took in my heart
The most delicious kiss
The most delicious kiss.

For a while you might
Have found it a plight
To locate a pebble
We picked clean the banks
Of the river thanks
To our little foible
We skipped and we went
To our heart’s content
By Notre-Dame’s steeples
The old “bouquinistes”
To this day insist
They never saw such ripples
They never saw so many ripples.

Alas it was not
To last as I thought
Forever and a night
One Tuesday she picked
Herself and she skipped
Away out of my sight
One long graceful hop
Took her to a pop
Loaded to the flirt-gills
A ten-stone gold fish
Who knew how to dish
High denomination bills
High denomination bills.

I sank in my fate
And opened the gate
To my lachrymal ducts
The Seine water rose
Dangerously close
To bridge and viaducts
If from one of those
I sensibly chose
Not to be a sinker
As everyone knows
The water that flows
Under is a true stinker
Under is a genuine stinker.

Also I had learned
That love brightly burned
Just before going south
Joining the fishes
Granted no wishes
To reach the river’s mouth
Let us not bemoan
A little flat stone
That nicked at a love vein
Simply turn its time
Into verse and rhyme
When contemplating the Seine
When contemplating the Seine.

© Didier Delahaye, 2004

J´avais dix-huit ans
Tout juste et quittant
Ma ville natale
Un beau jour, o gué
Je vins débarquer
dans la capitale
J´entrai pas aux cris
D´”A nous deux Paris”
En Île-de-France
Que ton Rastignac
N´ait cure, Balzac !
De ma concurrence
De ma concurrence.

Gens en place, dormez
Sans vous alarmer,
Rien ne vous menace
Ce n´est qu´un jeune sot
Qui monte à l´assaut
Du p´tit Montparnasse
On n´s´étonnera pas
Si mes premiers pas
Tout droit me menèrent
Au pont Mirabeau
Pour un coup de chapeau
À l´Apollinaire
À l´Apollinaire.

Bec enfariné
Pouvais-je deviner
Le remue-ménage
Que dans mon destin
Causerait soudain
Ce pèlerinage ?
Que circonvenu
Mon coeur ingénu
Allait faire des siennes
Tomber amoureux
De sa toute pre-
mière Parisienne
mière Parisienne.

N´anticipons pas,
Sur la berge en bas
Tout contre une pile,
La belle tachait
D´ fair´ des ricochets
D´un´ main malhabile
Moi, dans ce temps-la
Je n´ dis pas cela
En bombant le torse,
L´air avantageux
J´étais a ce jeu
De première force
De première force.

Tu m´ donn´s un baiser,
Ai-je propose
A la demoiselle
Et moi, sans retard
J´ t´apprends de cet art
Toutes les ficelles.
Affaire conclue,
En une heure elle eut
L´adresse requise.
En échange, moi
J´ cueillis plein d´moi
Ses lèvres exquises
Ses lèvres exquises.

Et durant un temps
Les journaux d´antan
D´ailleurs le relatent
Fallait se lever
Matin pour trouver
Une pierre plate.
On redessina
Du pont d´Iéna
Au pont Alexandre
Jusqu´ Saint-michel,
Mais à notre échelle,
La carte du tendre
La carte du tendre.

Mais c´était trop beau:
Au pont Mirabeau
La belle volage
Un jour se perchait
Sur un ricochet
Et gagnait le large.
Ell´ me fit faux-bond
Pour un vieux barbon,
La petite ingrate,
Un Crésus vivant
Détail aggravant
Sur la rive droite
Sur la rive droite.

J´en pleurai pas mal,
Le flux lacrymal
Me fit la quinzaine.
Au viaduc d´Auteuil
Parait qu´a vue d´œil
Grossissait la Seine.
Et si, pont d´ l´Alma,
J´ai pas noyé ma
Detresse ineffable,
C´est qu´ l´eau coulant sous
Les pieds du zouzou
Était imbuvable
Était imbuvable.

Et qu´ j´avais acquis
Cett´ conviction qui
Du reste me navre
Que mort ou vivant
Ce n´est pas souvent
Qu´on arrive au Havre.
Nous attristons pas,
Allons de ce pas
Donner, débonnaires,
Au pont Mirabeau
Un coup de chapeau
À l´Apollinaire
À l´Apollinaire.

Georges Brassens, 1976