La chasse aux papillons (25cm) - Georges Brassens traduction en anglais

La chasse aux papillons (25cm)

Un bon petit diable à la fleur de l'âge,
La jambe légère et l'œil polisson,
Et la bouche pleine de joyeux ramages,
Allait à la chasse aux papillons.
Comme il atteignait l'orée du village,
Filant sa quenouille, il vit Cendrillon,
Il lui dit: "Bonjour, que Dieu te ménage,
J' t'emmène à la chasse aux papillons."
Cendrillon ravi' de quitter sa cage,
Met sa robe neuve et ses botillons;
Et bras d'ssus bras d'ssous vers les frais bocages
Ils vont à la chasse aux papillons.
Il ne savait pas que sous les ombrages,
Se cachait l'amour et son aiguillon,
Et qu'il transperçait les cœurs de leur âge,
Les cœurs des chasseurs de papillons.
Quand il se fit tendre, ell' lui dit: "J' présage
Qu' c'est pas dans les plis de mon cotillon,
Ni dans l'échancrure de mon corsage,
Qu'on va à la chasse aux papillons."
Sur sa bouche en feu qui criait: "Sois sage!"
Il posa sa bouche en guis' de bâillon,
Et c'fut l'plus charmant des remu'-ménage
Qu'on ait vu d' mémoir' de papillon
Un volcan dans l'âme, i' r'vinr'nt au village,
En se promettant d'aller des millions,
Des milliards de fois, et mêm' davantage,
Ensemble à la chasse aux papillons.
Mais tant qu'ils s'aim'ront, tant que les nuages,
Porteurs de chagrins, les épargneront,
Il f'ra bon voler dans les frais bocages,
Ils f'ront pas la chasse aux papillons.

Butterfly Hunting (9.84 inches)

A naughty little devil in the prime of his life,
With light limbs and a mischievous eye,
And a mouth full of cheerful chirping,
Went butterfly hunting.
As he reached the edge of the village,
Spinning her spinning wheel, he saw Cinderella,
He said to her: "Hello, may God bless you,
I'll take you butterfly hunting."
Cinderella was delighted to leave her cage,
She put on her new dress and her boots;
And arm in arm they went to the cool groves
To hunt butterflies.
He didn't know that under the shade,
Love was hiding and its stinger,
And that it pierced the hearts of their age,
The hearts of butterfly hunters.
When it became tender, she said to him: "I predict
That it is not in the folds of my skirt,
Nor in the neckline of my bodice,
That we go butterfly hunting."
On her burning mouth which cried: "Be wise!"
He placed his mouth as a gag,
And it was the most charming commotion
That had ever been seen in memory of a butterfly
A volcano in their souls, they returned to the village,
Promising themselves to go millions,
Billions of times, and even more,
Together to hunt butterflies.
But as long as they love each other, as long as the clouds,
Bearing sorrows, spare them,
It will be good to fly in the cool groves,
They will not hunt butterflies.