Timpul Florilor

Netul produce uneori surprize nebanuite. Azi unul din prietenii mie de pe fb a postat un cantec al lui Mary Hopkin, Those were the days. Melodia imi era fff cunoscuta dar, pt ca era cantata in engleza, nu am recunoscut-o imediat. Mi-am amintit cu un oarecare efort ca e vorba de "C'etait le temps des fleurs" care, credeam eu, era cantata de Nana Mouskouri. Si cautand un videoclip cu acea interpretare Google mi-a servit surpriza cea mare. Cantecul original e rusesc. parca imi aduc aminte vag ca ar fi fost cantat in Volga, Volga, de Liubov Orlova, dar nu sunt f sigura.  Oricum, imi amintesc cu drag de comedia asta, un muzical care m-a distrat tare in tineretea mea, cand s-a reluat pe ecrane. Filmul e alb-negru, afisul a fost vopsit ulterior.

Ei, dar nu despre comedii, fie ele si muzicale, voiam sa discut aici, ci despre cantecul cu florile. Intr-un articol de pe un blog se spune ca acest cantec a fost compus in 1920, de catre compozitorul rus, Boris Fomin. Titlul rusesc este "Dorogoi dlinnoyu" ("Дорогой длинною" (Drumul cel lung). In 1960 un compozitor american, Gene Ruskin,  a preluat cantecul, i-a pus versuri in engleza (aceeasi istorie s-a intamplat si cu "Ne me Quite Pas" a lui Jaques Brel transformat in "If you Go Away") si l-a intitulat “Those were the days”. Cantecul a dobandit un succes urias si toata lumea a uitat de originalul rusesc. Sau aproape toata lumea. pt ca pe you tube exista si cantecul rusesc.


Dar o sa va intrebati cand e timpul florilor? Ei bine, in 1968 Vicky Leandros a facut versiunea franceza intitulata “C’etait le temps des fleurs”, cea pe care o stiam eu asa de bine.

Si acum o sa pun versurile cantecului, intai in engleza, preluate de la prietenul meu de pe fb, apoi in franceza, preluate de la un cover oribil, care are totusi meritul ca a pus versurile. Daca vreti sa ascultati cantecul in interpretarea regretatei Dalida, si sa vedeti un videoclip cu imagini superbe de flori va recomand linkul acesta.

Once upon a time there was a tavern

Where we used to raise a glass or two

Remember how we laughed away the hours

Think of all the great things we would do

Those were the days, my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
When we were young and sure to have our way
la la la la la la~

Then the busy years went rushing by us
We lost our strong emotions on the way
If by chance I'd see you in the tavern
We'd smile at one another and we'd say

Those were the days, my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
Those were the days on yes those were the days
la la la la la la~

Just tonight I stood before the tavern
Remember the simple way it used to be
In the glass I saw a strange reflection
Was that lonely woman really me ?

Those were the days, my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
Those were the days on yes those were the days
la la la la la la~

Through the door there came familiar laughter
I saw your face and heard you call my name
Oh my friend we're older but no wiser
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same

Those were the days, my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

Those were the days on yes those were the days

la la la la la la~

Iata versiunea in franceza:

Dans une taverne du vieux Londres

Où se retrouvaient des étrangers

Nos voix criblées de joies montaient de l'ombre

Et nous écoutions nos cœurs chanter

C'était le temps des fleurs

On ignorait la peur

Les lendemains avaient un goût un miel

Ton bras prenait mon bras

Ta voix suivait ma voix

On était jeunes et l'on croyait au ciel

Et puis sont venus des jours de brume

Avec des bruits étranges et des pleurs

Combien j'ai passé de nuits sans lune

À chercher la taverne dans mon cœur

Tout comme au temps des fleurs

Où l'on vivait sans peur

Où chaque jour avait un goût de miel

Ton bras prenait mon bras

Ta voix suivait ma voix

On était jeunes et l'on croyait au ciel

Et ce soir je suis devant la porte

De la taverne où tu ne viendras plus

Et la chanson que la nuit m'apporte

Mon cœur déjà ne la connaît plus

C'était le temps des fleurs

On ignorait la peur

Les lendemains avaient un goût de miel

Ton bras prenait mon bras

Ta voix suivait ma voix

On était jeunes et l'on croyait au ciel.

Dar exista si o varianta in roamana, cantata in 1969 la "Cerbul de Aur" de la Brasov in 1969 de Margareta Paslaru. Titlul este  "Azi vreau sa rad din nou" Explicatia aparitiei acestei versiuni e simpla: nu era voie sa se cante decat in limba romana, chiar daca respectivul cantec era un cover al unuia international.  Si cum pe net se publica o multime de chestii, s-au publicat si versurile in limba romana:

Camera e rece si pustie
Lacrimi bat in geam necontenit
As vrea sa pot crede iar in visul
Care va pieri cu zorile

Azi vreau sa rad din nou
S-alung tot ce-a fost rau
Azi vreau sa cred ca tu ai sa te-ntorci
Am sa te-astept sa vii
Am sa te-astept sa-mi spui
Esti viata mea, esti fericirea mea

Singura ma plimb pe-aleea ninsa
Caut urma pasilor de-atunci
Iti simt mana calda, ti-aud glasul
Stiu ca-i o himera dar mai sper

Azi vreau sa rad din nou
S-alung tot ce-a fost rau
Azi vreau sa cred ca tu ai sa te-ntorci
Am sa te-astept sa vii
Am sa te-astept sa-mi spui
Esti viata mea, esti fericirea mea


Festivalul s-a trnsmis la TVR. Era pe vremea regretatilor Tudor Vornicu si Alexandru Bocanet (care mi-a fost coleg de liceu, aceeasi promotie)

Si cum puteau lipsi de aici versurile in limba rusa? Iata-le:

Ехали на тройке с бубенцами,
А вдали мелькали огоньки.
Мне б мне, соколики, за Вами,
Душу бы развеять от тоски.

Дорогой длинною, да ночью лунною,
Да с песней той, что вдаль летит звеня,
И с той старинною с той семиструнною,
Что по ночам так мучала меня...

Так живя без радости, без муки,
Помню я ушедшие года,
И твои серебряные руки
В тройке, улетевшей навсегда...

Да, выходит, пели мы за даром
Понапрасну ночь за ночью жгли
Если б мы покончили со старым
Так и ночи эти отошли

Дни бегут, печали умножая,
Мне так трудно прошлое забыть.
Как-нибудь однажды, дорогая,
Вы меня свезете хоронить.

В даль родную новыми путями
Нам отныне ехать суждено
Ехали на тройке с бубенцами
Да теперь проехали давно

Traduse asa de Google (in engleza, desigur, ca in romana sunt patita ce prapastii ies):

We rode in a troika with bells,
In the distance the lights flickered.
I used to me, darling, for you,
Soul to dispel boredom.

Long road, but at night lunnoyu,
Yes, the song the one that flies into the distance ringing,
And with the old days with the seven-string,
That at night so plagued me ...

So living without joy, without flour
I remember the last year,
And your silver hands
The three, all flown away ...

But it turns out we were singing for nothing
Wasted night after night burned
If we have done away with the old
And night the departed

Days running, sadness multiplying
I'm so hard to forget the past.
Somehow one day, my dear,
You do svezete buried.

In what new ways home
We are now destined to go
We rode in a troika with bells
Yes now long passed

Sau in versiunea pt cei trei tenori, de unde am luat is varianta in rusa:

They were riding in a troika with bells,
and in the distance there were glimmering lights.
I'd rather go now with you, my dears,
I'd rather distract my soul from the yearning.

Along a long road, and on a moonlit night,
And with that song that flies away with jingle-jangle,
And with that ancient, seven-stringed one (guitar)
That tortured me so much at nights...

Living this way, without joy, without torture,
I do remember the past years
and your silvery hands
in a troika that flew away forever....

But it turns out our song was futile,
In vain we burned night in and night out.
If we have finished with the old,
Then those nights have also left us!

The days run on, multiplying the sorrows,
it is so hard for me to forget the past.
Some day, my dear,
you shall take me to bury (dead hero to the cemetery)

Out into our native land, and by new paths,
We have been fated to go now!
…You rode on a troika with sleigh bells,
[But] you’ve long since passed by!