Blue as the sky
Blue as the sea
Blue as freedom
As summer’s perfection
As the little blue house
Tag Archives: freedom
I was mesmerized by the softness of this clip and wanted to share it with you. I looked up the lyrics copied it and translated it to English too.
Mylène Farmer is a very popular French singer.
I quote wikipedia who says…
Mylène Farmer (pronounced: [milɛn faʁmœʁ]; born Mylène Jeanne Gautier; [milɛn ɡotje]; born 12 September 1961) is a French singer, songwriter, occasional actress and author.
She has sold more than 30 million records and is among the most successful recording artists of all time in France. She holds the record for the most number one hits in the French charts, with thirteen to date, eight of which were consecutive. Her best-known songs include “Désenchantée”, “Pourvu qu’elles soient douces”, “Sans contrefaçon”, “Libertine”,”California”, “XXL”, “C’est une belle journée”, “Rêver”, “Les Mots”, and “Oui mais… non.
Mylene Farmer Je Te Dis Tout lyrics was added to the site 27 Nov, 2012 and since that time has 151 hits and voted 0 times. Other popular Mylene Farmer lyrics are: L’amour C’est Rien, Regrets and Xxl.
Dans ce soir mouvant
J’écoute le vent
De mes jours maudits
Ça je le suis
Je te dis tout
Tu peuples ma vie
Abuse le sort
Frappe à ma porte
Pose une main
Sur mon front
Sur mes seins
Je quittais terre
Tu es mon sang
Mon double aimant
Et sur ton pull
J’y broderais M
Pour que nos sangs
Se mêlent au vent
Dans ce jeu sanglant
Je dis tout au vent
Je suis qui pardonne au temps
Je te dis tout
Tu peuples ma vie
Abuse du sort
Frappe à ma porte
Pose une main
Sur mon front
Sur mes seins
Translation in English
Moving in tonight
I listen to the wind
My cursed days
That I am
I tell you everything
You populate my life
Knocking at my door
Lay a hand
On my forehead
On my breasts
I’d left earth
You are my blood
My double magnet
And on your sweater
I’d embroider M
So our blood
Mingle with the wind
In this bloody game
I say all to the wind
as a cloud
I am who forgives time
I tell you everything
You populate my life
Abuse of fate
Knocking at my door
Lay a hand
On my forehead
On my breasts
I got this comment from someone I couldn’t trace back (got a blank page) and as I fear it might be a virus I’m copying it here with my answer & hope that won’t do damage as it won’t have the link…
Thank you for posting this song, I love it too! It’s so mesmerising….
If I may, I would translate a few things differently :
“In the moving night” instead of “Moving into the night”
“Transient heiress of my cursed days, that, I am.” instead of “Heiress, transient, my cursed days”
“Abuse fate, knock at my door” instead of “Abuse fate, knocking at my door”
“You are my blood, my loving double, my DNA” instead of “You are my blood, my double magnet, my DNA”.
“Aimant” mean “loving” as well as “magnet”, I think in this song it means loving.
I don’t mean to be rude, I hope you don’t mind.
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I appreciate the corrections. I had thought the translation to be professional as it was on a specific site & didn’t bother to check. I took a huge risk approving your comment as I could not connect to your site & just got a blank page so I hope you’re not a virus message…
Let me know how to check your site, just to be on the safe side
She did not reply so I moved it here & hope my blog is safe 🙂
As you see this essay was written a few months ago but I go with the idea that my experience might help someone out there and in that way, take out the positive from the negative, even though some will debate about an experience being negative or not 🙂
Going in circles…
How do we escape those furious bouts of eating. Why do we have to put the rage of our emotions in food?
Don’t we realize the grave we are digging by such behavior, do we feel our heart beating furiously, our breathing heavier by the second?
Illness is feared by so many yet common sense evaporates into thin air when confronted with food.
Death is a subject practically taboo today, we are so afraid of it but, don’t we realize we are shortening our lives?
How is it possible that we are perfectly rational human beings but totally oblivious to reality when dealing with food?
Somebody in their right sense of mind would never mutilate their body the way we do. We become self-destructive to the extreme and call it “spoiling ourselves-taking a break- letting loose- chilling- taking it easy or taking care”.
Taking CARE of ourselves?!
How could we possibly ever think of it in those terms when, we see our body swelling and ourselves sliding down emotionally to a bottomless pit?
Is this the insanity Oa talks about? Being perfectly sane in all other matters, more than anyone around until…
How do we make sense of all this? We know off-by-heart the words of wisdom, we don’t want to hear them. So, how do we pull ourselves out… Seek our H.P? We know. We do. But WE put ourselves into this mess not him.
In his great generosity he will drag us back out. We know. But why are we still stuck? Will we stay here, this time for good? Where is the energy we need, where did it disappear when we had it?
It went with that ONE bite!
That is how tricky that one bite is. Why didn’t we listen, why didn’t we stop right on time, where did our strength and determination go flying when we were challenged?
So many questions and no answers!
We think we can manage what we call “ that innocent bite “ but that is where it brought us to.
When granted abstinence, we are wearing a crown, we are bestowed with a most precious gift. We should try not to discard it at a whim.
It is easier to say no to one bite, than saying yes, to months of struggle until we muster a mountain of courage to get back on track.
The lesson is, do not throw away what is most valuable to you. Know that abstinence is not a gift we find everywhere, anytime. It is a present given seldom. After seeking, begging for it and offered with much deliberation.
Do we know when the opportunity will arise again? We do not. We lie in wait… Hoping, this time, we will be the lucky winners once again.
But uncertainty gnaws at us, it bites into our hope, bit by bit, until we find ourselves on our knees.
Why does it have to be that way, are we so used to be in “ desperation mode “ and repeat the same pattern to go back to what is familiar and comfortable even if it’s a hell-hole?
How do we and can we, erase our past-programming? Are we doomed or will we realize one day that life has so much more to offer?
Be a slave and serve our addiction or, invite freedom and joy?
We COULD grow up and see that they are the only things worth living for and ask to be given clarity of mind to make the right choices in our lives and, strength to have a lasting abstinence this time round.
The one given once in a lifetime to the few privileged…The chosen.
By him as much as by us.
This painting, as you see, was mostly fun to do. There’s something expressive, intricate yet joyous and free in the works of Jackson Pollock, that’s what appeals to me. Its empowering technique.
What do you think of it?
I have fun with all my paintings but each one is a different experience, this one represented, lightness, life’s gift, childhood, freedom.
Flower that never dies
Oh! Flower on the horizon
How I would like to have your freedom
Flower of derision
Have your honesty
Flower of evil?
Flower so pale?
Flower of fear?
Flower that never dies.
Flower of paradoxes
Flower that detoxifies
Flower of colors
Embalming all hearts
Free to be
Or not to be
To leave and return
Or leave to better return?
Freedom to love
Throughout the summer
By a breeze or dew
Respire the sea air
Or the scent of the earth
Open up to the sun
Or doze in winter
Oh! Follies on the horizon
Longing for derision
By too much wisdom?
Or too much weakness
Stifled or surrounded?
Strangled or cherished
Oh! Flower of recklessness
How I envy your insistence
Living at the rhythm of seasons
without the age of reason
Free to caress
The sun of a summer
An enchanted winter
Fleur Qui jamais ne meurt
Oh! Fleur à l’horizon
Comme je voudrais avoir ta liberté!
Fleur de dérision
Avoir ton honnêteté.
Fleur du mal?
Fleur si pâle?
Fleur de la peur?
Fleur qui jamais ne meurt.
Fleur de tous les paradoxes
Fleur qui désintoxique
Fleur de couleurs
Qui embaume les coeurs
Ou de ne pas être
De partir et revenir
Ou partir pour mieux revenir?
Au fil de l’été
Te laisser caresser
Par une brise ou la rosée
Respirer l’air de la mer
Ou la senteur de la terre
S’éclore au soleil
Ou, somnoler en hiver
Oh! Folie à l’horizon
Envie de dérision
Par trop de sagesse?
Ou trop de faiblesse
Etouffer ou entourer?
Etrangler ou choyer
Oh! Fleur de l’insouciance
Comme j’envie ton instance!
Vivre au rythme des saisons
Sans l’âge de raisons
Libre de caresser
Le soleil de l’été
Ou de somnoler
Un hiver enchanté
Have a wonderful day!
This essay was written a while ago, but I thought it might help others struggling, if it does, all the better!
After two full years of constant relapses, we can get desperate.
So, knowing it’s, this or nothing, we go back to O.A literature we’d given up in dejection, and as we read the
book ” Hope for today ” of O.A, we are struck by three words that keep recurring.
Detachment, seems, ( at least for the people who get too involved or entangled ) to be one of the keys to success
Well, if we remove ourselves from situations and sometimes people, ( in a positive sense, meaning, right time, right
place ) we’d put less energy, taking to heart THEIR lives or situation and have more left ” to put our house in order ”
If we observe people who are detached, they might seem aloof or cold, but all they are doing is keeping their lives
much simpler than ours.
Asking for forgiveness is something we think everyone practices, when harming another.
We feel betrayed, hurt and trampled on, when apologies do not occur. We wait, for recognition of their acts. For
responsibility to be taken, as it’s usually done, after calmly reassessing a situation.
Years go by and we are still waiting… Wasting our time, and on occasion, using food as a temporary relief, when it suddenly dawns on us…
Forgiveness will never be asked for, but what stops us from going on with OUR lives? It doesn’t stop OUR forgiveness.
Forgiveness is something I do with my H.P’s help and I do it for me. I don’t need anyone’s apology to begin my healing
process. ( Hope for today. page 274 )
We cannot absorb the meaning of those words all at once. Only later, does it hit us with it’s full impact.
All the hurt, had actually nothing to do with our getting on, living and being happy.
People can choose to stay stuck in THEIR place, but we can and will, live, in its true sense from now on.
Before, everything seemed, one big, muddled heap, but now, we can divide it in two parts. People asking for forgiveness and taking responsibility, is one part that belongs to them and our lives, is the second part that belongs to us.
Free, clean and pure.
Only with that realization are we clear to burst forth, with life, energy and joy.
Simplify our existence instead of wallowing in the past and wasting precious time. Only then, are we clean. After years of
dragging the muck of a dead past, we don’t have to own it. People have attitudes, which we were involuntary witnesses of,
WE don’t have to carry it.
That is forgiveness. Not bearing excessive luggage and forgiving ourselves for having done so until now. That’s the detachment needed too. Knowing what is ours and what is theirs.
Emptiness is something everyone has to deal with, one time or another, but occasionally, there is a need to read about others
experiences to fully accept it. We don’t always imbibe the meaning of the term Emptiness and for some, it can be further from
their mind than the moon is to earth.
Emotions tend to dig themselves so deep in the psyche, we might have had a hard time excavating them, had we had the possibility
to do so. Filling the space, emptiness brings, with food, is never the solution, we just end up having to confront two predicaments.
So, here we are, on a holiday, a break or simply at home relaxing, where one has time to ” digest ” ideas we normally would happily
discard, clarity is given an opportunity and before we know it, we are awarded with a second chance to life. But… Sporadically,
our mind takes back old habits ( we never change that fast 🙂 ) and we wonder… Will that feeling last? That sense of elation, freedom
and joy? Will it leave its emblem guiding our ” vista ” or will we go back to our old resentments.
We do not have a clue.
All we can do is ” keep it simple ” live the moment fully, absorb the information and go on from there, to the place we really want to be.
A borough where serenity is king.
This was a very special encounter with nature’s perfection, which I called…
It is consumed and depleted that I take my car and drive the highway to reach the most exquisite ” nature spot “.
I avow. It’s not what you have in mind, when I call it by that name, but to me, it’s been the paradise I seek, when my body and soul need some healing. When it’s battered and drained from a festivity, a birth or just plain life.
It’s been twenty five years, I’ve been cradled, cushioned and protected by it’s relaxed surroundings.
I take the first exit. It slows my pace and introduces me to the quality, the heartbeat of earth. It is, by now, a ritual.The roads become narrower, cows graze the fields on either sides, houses get smaller…
I ride at my leisure passing a huge forest, the road darkening under the shadow of the tall, strong and sturdy trees. A minutes rest for my eyes against the glare of daylight and I’ve arrived at my destination.
I am greeted by a big splash of, light and dark grey ( the clouds! ) surrounded by different tones of green but, for the exception of a short straight line of dark crimson in the distance.
The lake is still. As in wait.Dark clouds loom low. Thunder rumbles in the distances.
We are, Sunday the ninth of May two thousand and ten.
The weather is perfect for me. I know I’ll have the park all to myself. People shy away from rain, whereas sunshine, makes me look for more isolated spaces. Armed with my umbrella, I take a purposeful stride and go on my usual itinerary. Which is,walking around the lake, starting on the right side.
Calmness, descends upon my soul, and joy fills up to the brim. I take a deep breath and glance appreciatively at the willow trees, bowing down gracefully to natures caprice.
The surroundings invite me to loosen every nerve and muscle in my body. Tensions gradually dissipates.
I go on and find, a high and wide bush of dark pink Rhododendrons in full bloom, wishing I was a skillful painter to capture on a canvas those vivid colors. But instead, I ” fish ” out of my pocket a digital camera and seize natures imprints.
Every corner of this park is embedded with memories. Some very old and some fairly recent. Just a few feet away, I see myself twenty years ago on my due date, resting on the grass, dozing off, anticipation buried deep, in the upcoming birth of our son. Further on, I climb up, a trickle of a path and find myself perched on a man-made ridge and admire the full view of the lake and forest, remembering summer days when the weather is warm and the park “buzzed” with people as bees in a hive, and enjoying this setting being as remote as one could wish for. The ones staying long enough were those looking for what I’d come for and respected the veil of peace protecting it.
I could nearly call it my own.
I absorb this special moment of tranquility and go rushing down the other side of the slope, welcomed by the scents of, Pine trees, shrubs of Yew, Laurel, Thuja, Spruce and berberry in bloom dangling as orange bells or tear drops. Every color blending, one in another. Apple green to yellow, vivid and dark green…A small bush of white Rhododendrons lying low at the back, surprises the wondering gaze.
My eyes skip from one to the other, afraid of missing out a tint. A hue.
I feel like a child in a sweet shop. Wanting to take everything in sight, stuff it in my pockets or, treasure it in the folds of a precious well used book. But again, what I do is fill my digital, feed my ” chip ” with every shape imaginable, a delicate nerve on a leaf, a tone, a glow, a bark, and if it were possible, the passion felt for so much splendor, trapped within the chambers of my heart, now released and free to take whichever path it chooses.
I saunter along, feeling blessed as I see the dark clouds, gaping and letting escape from it’s grip, a strong beam of sunlight, flooding at my feet. I close my eyes in delight at the unexpected warmth crossing my eyelids, my face. This game of hide and seek, keeps recurring throughout the day.
Knowing this place as the palm of my hand, I realize, it’s the first time, I’ve ever seen it through this angle.
Every season has it’s moment. It comes, goes. We capture it and are the sole witnesses of this living magnificence.
The breathing pattern of nature is diverse. Dependable on many factors. One of them, man’s respect towards it.
As I walk on, I gaze at a big, sturdy red beech tree, the rusty tinge on it’s leaves catch the light, branches hang protectively over two wooden tables and benches, for people to find shade and enjoy a picnic between friends or family. I observe the narrow path, leading to the forest, not daring to venture, just in case I might miss out on something more exiting. The lake maybe, and its reflection, the ducks swimming, indifferent to life’s constant changes, the breeze ruffling the landscape, the rare passer-by, nodding in acknowledgement…
So, I go back to the paved foot-way and go on my designed route.
As I amble, a stream of trees pass-by my eyes as in a parade. Straight, tall and ready to the order. Birch trees with it’s characteristic white bark, Oak and Beech trees, Hornbeam and plane trees… I feel happy and dizzy. I have no doubt. Nature is where we belong.
A little bit further is the football terrain and Lilac ” laces ” daintily the contour. A few meters on, a Holly bush, gives a Christmas touch even though months have long gone by. An Elder plant, Viburnum and Cornus all present, a wilder aspect of nature. They’re rough looking shrubs. Whereas the pink blooming of Weigelia, is a palette of sophistication and delicacy. Every step taken, is the discovery of yet, another marvel. There is never a moment of boredom. It’s a sheer delight to the contemplator.
I finally find ” our ” ghost tree which is a weeping Nootkacypress, looking like a pine tree with needles literally ” dripping ” to the ground in a haunted way. It has it’s place of honor. Right in the middle of the mini-golf. A popular national pass-time.
Being here feels like being part of a big painting project. Which unravels along the path, bit by bit, piece by piece of composed beauty, which I collect and stick together at the end, when I go back to reality. Being given the opportunity and privilege to create my (inner) masterpiece. The one I’ll pull out from my secret draw and indulge into, for a fleeting moment.
I shake myself from my reverie and cross the narrow railway designed for the small steam train, ( taking children who tire easily on the way ) and recognize bamboo on the corner and Wisteria climbing up a shack.
The air is fresh and crisp. Nature unfolds itself to me. Ribes, Horse chestnut, False Holly… My lungs take in a maximum of pure oxygen then, on my right, I step unto the magical and airy sight of a field of Dandelions ready to blow away by it’s first gust of wind.
I notice on my left, a young lonesome, fragile Cherry tree, bending under the pressures of the elements. Further, a carpet of daisies greet me as the confirmation to a harsh winters closure.
I finally pass those red Beech trees with it’s crimson leaves I had noticed at the entrance and became aware of a dream coming to it’s end. I was lucky to have come at a very special time of the year. The moment, nature opens up his palette to the few and the privileged.
I give one last glance, before tearing myself away from a scenery I felt complete with the time, of what seemed, like the trajectory of a shooting star, promising myself to replenish my soul whenever I feel the need, and not wait for my mind and body to scream in desperation.
I find, gladly, the warmth and coziness of my car and drive back to my loved ones, a new person. Refreshed, vibrant and energized. Ready to embrace life in all it’s facets.
Yet… In wait for the next, interlude.