Another concert of Dominique and his friends, another night of dancing in a restaurant by the sea. The pinacle of happiness ...
This time I wore the pale yellow dress bought at Royan with Anne, a little flared, no makeup, just transparent nail polish: I found my nails so pretty, they shone like ten little mirrors. Sitting at a table next to Chantal, we observed the dancers on the dance floor. Most of the guests were seated and had a bite a or a drink.
"Good evening ..." said Dominique at the microphone, in his warm seductive voice, interrupting the conversations, while Laurent, on bass, played a light rhythm in the background. "I usually sing at least one Georges Brassens song in each of my concerts ... I love his lyrics and I think you like them too!"
Some applause were heard here and there.
"But tonight, if the music of the song you are going to hear now is from Brassens, the text is a poem by Louis Aragon.This is a sad story of love, prepare your handkerchiefs ladies , you will love this song, I'm sure of it ... "
And after a few guitar chords, Dominique had added with his nicest smile: "I dedicate this song to ... my friend Betty, who loves Aragon a lot."
In an attentive silence, the light was reduced to a spot directed on Dominique in his white shirt and black jeans:
"Nothing is ever acquired to man, neither his strength / Nor his weakness, nor his heart and when he believes / to open his arms, his shadow is that of a cross / And when he wants to squeeze his happiness, he makes it grieve / His life is a strange and painful divorce / There is no happy love .. ".
I was amazed, eyes wide, receiving every word like a treasure ... Dominique sang with all his talent and all his heart this sad and beautiful song, that I knew by heart and that I loved so much! What a surprise, what an explosive effect produced this magical text of Aragon! It was pure poetry which, thus released in the heart of the holidays, imposed for a moment its truths on the superficiality of the summer! Anne had come to join me at the table, she listened attentively as I did, but her head turned towards me, as if to read on my face the effect of these words.
"The time to learn how to live, it's already too late / we cry in the night our hearts in unison / much grief for the simplest song / much regret to pay for a thrill / many a tear for a guitar's melody... / There is no happy love ... »
I had blushed and my eyes full of tears remained fixed on Dominique, who sang with emotion this difficult text, far from summer flings.
Then the applause had sounded, and the lights had changed abruptly, the drums immediately linking to more rhythmic music, as if Laurent, at the bass, had at heart to erase the strong impression of the previous piece.
My eyes widened by emotion had crossed the amused look of Anne. I was very touched by Aragon's poem, not her apparently.
"You see, I told you, he felt that there was a wall between us: there is no happy love! He chose this song to tell me that he understood!"
"I think he's trying to jump over it, that famous wall! He chose to go in your direction to please you more, he used what you like, literature, words, to ... seduce you." Anne smiled, charming and tanned, her curly hair forming a blond halo under the spots.
"In any case, it was beautiful ... What a song! ... Do you think there's no happy love?"
"Certainly not! haha come on, come dance Betty!
I had learned during these few weeks, that it was sometimes enough to stand on the dance floor, and move slightly to music among the other dancers, to be considered as one of them. So I followed Anne and "danced", while continuing to watch Dominique who was now singing in English, I did not know what. I heard again and again what he had sung for me:
My beautiful love, my dear love, my torn heart/ I carry you in me like a wounded bird/ those who unknowingly watch us walk by/ Repeat after me my words and sigh/ They have already died in your bright eyes/ There is no happy love...
*************
Sorry for the long break! Im having an exam on Monday that may be a turning point in my life, based on the grade, ill either get a scholarship for my second year of studies, or not!
wish me luck!
hope you've enjoyed the chapter! I leave you this time with a masterpiece of the French singer, Brassens:
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L'Etoile Rose
General Fiction16 year old Betty spends a summer at a sailing school where she learns to assert herself and find her place in the world of adults. Amazing cover by @sweetsimu !!! She happens to be an amazing writer too! check her out!
