A long time ago, in November, the Photo Challenge was “it’s not this time of year without…” and I chose dead leaves. Because we were in Autumn and leaves tend to fall rather late, towards the middle or end of November. Here is a selection of Autumn leaves culminating with Dead Leaves, a great poem by Jacques Prévert.
I publish this and there is some irony in that, since this is Spring and leaves are only growing to their full extent at this time of year. Let’s say it’s yet another opportunity for me to talk about the trees that I like so much.
On our way to the Luxembourg gardens
Right down our street.
That one is taken from my portfolios. Ginkos are incredibly beautiful when autumn comes (here this is Montsouris).
About Jacques Prévert and the Dead Leaves poem
Jacques Prévert was a renowned French poet and screenwriter born on February 4, 1900, in Neuilly-sur-Seine. He is celebrated for his role in popularizing modern poetry in the 20th century, particularly through his simple yet evocative style, which often blends everyday language with profound themes of love, nature, and the human condition.
Prévert’s early life was marked by his education at the prestigious Lycée Louis-le-Grand, where he developed a passion for literature and arts. His poetry became particularly influential during and after World War II, with works like “Les Feuilles mortes” and “Le Poète et le Poisson,” which resonate deeply with universal emotions and experiences.
Beyond poetry, Prévert made significant contributions to cinema as a screenwriter, collaborating with notable directors such as Marcel Carné on films like “Les Enfants du Paradis,” which remains a cinematic classic. His ability to weave narrative and poetic sensibility has earned him a distinguished place in French literary history. Prévert passed away on April 11, 1977, but his legacy continues to inspire generations, emphasizing the beauty of simplicity and the power of words in expressing complex emotions.
Les feuilles mortes / Dead Leaves
| Français | English |
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Oh! je voudrais tant que tu te souviennes Des jours heureux où nous étions amis. Dans ce temps-là la vie était plus belle, Et le soleil plus brûlant qu’aujourd’hui. Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle. Tu vois, je n’ai pas oublié… |
Oh! I wish so much that you would remember The happy days when we were friends. In that time life was more beautiful, And the sun more burning than today. Dead leaves are gathered up by the shovel. You see, I have not forgotten… |
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Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle, Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi. Et le vent du nord les emporte Dans la nuit froide de l’oubli. Tu vois, je n’ai pas oublié La chanson que tu me chantais. |
Dead leaves are gathered up by the shovel, Memories and regrets as well. And the north wind carries them away Into the cold night of oblivion. You see, I have not forgotten The song you used to sing to me. |
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C’est une chanson qui nous ressemble. Toi, tu m’aimais et je t’aimais. Et nous vivions tous les deux ensemble, Toi qui m’aimais, moi qui t’aimais. Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment, Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit. Et la mer efface sur le sable Les pas des amants désunis. |
It’s a song that resembles us. You loved me and I loved you. And we used to live together, You who loved me, I who loved you. But life separates those who love each other, Softly, without making a sound. And the sea washes away on the sand The footsteps of parted lovers. |
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Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle, Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi. Mais mon amour silencieux et fidèle Sourit toujours et remercie la vie. Je t’aimais tant, tu étais si jolie. Comment veux-tu que je t’oublie ? En ce temps-là, l’amour avait la vie belle, Et le soleil plus brûlant qu’aujourd’hui. Tu étais ma plus douce amie. |
Dead leaves are gathered up by the shovel, Memories and regrets as well. But my silent and faithful love Still smiles and gives thanks to life. I loved you so, you were so pretty. How can you expect me to forget you? In that time, love had a beautiful life, And the sun more burning than today. You were my sweetest friend. |
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Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment, Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit. Et la mer efface sur le sable Les pas des amants désunis. Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle, Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi. Et le vent du nord les emporte Dans la nuit froide de l’oubli. Pourtant, ma chanson te dit: « Reviens, reviens, mon amoureux » Le temps passe et rien ne rend les beaux jours, Mais reviens quand même, si tu le peux. |
But life separates those who love each other, Softly, without making a sound. And the sea washes away on the sand The footsteps of parted lovers. Dead leaves are gathered up by the shovel, Memories and regrets as well. And the north wind carries them away Into the cold night of oblivion. Yet, my song tells you: “Come back, come back, my lover” Time passes and nothing brings back the beautiful days, But come back anyway, if you can. |
Jacques Prévert — Les Feuilles Mortes (1946) · Bilingual version
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Je suis photographe et aquarelliste. Je pratique la photographie depuis l'enfance et la photographie numérique depuis 1995. J'en ai fait mon activité principale en 2021. Je possède un studio photo dans le 15e arrondissement de Paris
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Nice! I like this bird’s eye view (as in walking, not flying bird) of a streetscape.
Thanks! A walking bird, I like that.
[…] It’s Not This Time of Year Without Dead Leaves – the Antimuseum in Paris (and beyond) […]
Great angles. I really felt as though I was being drawn along the ground. You are right Ginkos are beautiful.
Thanks Irene, very kind. I did put my camera on the ground indeed.
[…] It’s Not This Time of Year Without Dead Leaves – the Antimuseum in Paris (and beyond) […]
Yann, I like the down low perspective you used. Ginkgo leaves are lovely.
janet
Thank you so much 🙂 very kind of you.
[…] A follow-up on last Friday’s photo challenge entitled “it’s not this time of year…” […]
[…] A follow-up on last Friday’s photo challenge entitled “it’s not this time of year…” […]