Then, Now and Always

Here’s my attempt to provide a singable English translation of the song “Je t’aimais, je t’aime et je t’aimerai” from Francis Cabrel’s 1994 album, “Samedi soir sur la terre”. Post originally published in 2020.

“Je t’aimais, je t’aime et je t’aimerais” is a love song from a parent to a small child, evoking the beauty of a child in the natural world, where even light itself, the only entity apart from the parent that can ‘see’ their private world, can not approach the child’s beauty. It’s also a profound commitment to love the child forever, to fill their life with love, and a declaration that the poet will dedicate their life to this purpose.

The literal translation of the title, is, of course, “I loved you; I love you; and I will love you”. This works in French, and is remarkable in its linguistic elegance and rhythm, but English doesn’t do it justice. So here I’ve taken a free interpretation, to make a version that, I hope, communicates the original emotion and atmosphere of the song and its main themes, while rhyming and being singable alongside the original music.

There are a few key elements that I’ve lost in this non-literal translation. One is the repeated phrase “nu sur les galets”, literally “naked on the pebbles/shingle”. While an arrestingly tender image, and familiar to any parent who has watched a toddler on a beach on a summer evening, I feel with regret that English can’t do justice to this idea in a literal sense within the confines of this poetic form.

The other one I’ve lost to my regret is “mes doigts pris sur tes poignets”, literally ‘my fingers caught upon your wrists’. In the context, it refers to the special way they hold hands which is a private love sign or marker. I have something similar with my own daughter and it is a powerful image from the song. At the moment, I can’t insert this notion within the restrictions of the verse, without detracting from the poetry.

In the original, there’s one rhyme almost entirely throughout (galets, trajet, pourrait). Here I have kept as closely as I can to one rhyming word per stanza (sand, hands, wasteland; onto, knew, grew). I’ve included a stanza by stanza colour scheme so that you can see the parts that correspond to the original French.

In summary, I’m aware of and regret these limitations, and this is a first pass at this song so it may be possible to do better another time.

What I’m happy about, though, is that this version is playable and singable, and it’s still, I feel, haunting and profound in the same vein as the original.