This post is also available in: polski (Polish)

At this concert, I cried, laughed, sang songs, transported myself to the land of childhood, saw my mother’s smile, and my friend’s tears mingled with mine. Time sparkled on my cheek. I absorbed the theater, enjoyed French, and lived in Bordeaux that night.

Merci Beaucoup! 

On December evening my favorite song “Plusieurs”/ “A Few” sounds at the Théâtre Fémina  in Bordeaux.  A black-and-white film appears on the screen. Vincent Delerm takes the stage after a few tacts.

I thought for a long time
I thought before
That I’m the same, alone in all this – Châtelet, Barbara
Alone in the corner, on the Puichois lawn
Alone on the planet – really
There really are several of us

-sings in French. And although I don’t speak the language, I’ve long understood his songs. The melodies and lyrics pierce into me. They’re like memories, solace, hugs, shots of feelings, puzzles of the present I try to piece together in the day, the moon on the world, a raindrop on a bus window, a flight to Bordeaux.

• 

• 

The Femina Theatre is bursting at the seams. I sit in a plush armchair. I hold my hat on my lap. I sway. I clap my hands. The black piano, like the table from my family home, taps the rhythm in my heart.

Between songs, Vincent tells various funny stories. Even though I only understand fragments of the words, I feel what he’s talking about.

People laugh. Delerm tunes his guitar and plays two very old songs. I know that Joe Dassin song too. So I start singing with everybody.

Down the Champs-Élysées.

Down the Champs-Élysées.

Friday night, Saturday.

Any night, a rainy day.

You’ll find what you’re looking for.

On the Champs-Élysées.

And then on the screen reappears, a black-and-white road among fluffy trees, the mother’s eyes sparkle, people dance. And against a pink background, a cassette player.

No one wants this concert to end. We clap our hands almost endlessly. And then there are three encores.

Now Vincent Delerm’s concert resonates with me every day. And his latest album, “Le Fresque” accompanies me on my morning commute to work every day. And then it doesn’t matter so much that a storm is brewing.

The longing of you is important because it can bring me to cheerful life.

I meet you in a small local cafe, wine is spilling on the map, at the table next to you they are playing marbles. How wonderful is this day.

• 

• 

Early Morning presents
A village in winter
Childhood, a room, a poster
Car headlights on the wallpaper at night at five in the morning
Like an Edward Hopper painting
Snow, a scenery
And no one else around you
You’re waiting for someone
The other characters
They’ll come one by one
And you’ll recognize their faces
Evening after evening, night after night
You’ll write down their names in the order they appeared in your life

(…)

A fragment of the song “Le Frresque”. Thank you to Joanna Guranowska for the wonderful translations of two songs!

Bordeaux remains within me. A city I already miss. I want to get there as soon as possible. I spin a kaleidoscope, see an angel on Jean Moulin square, and look in the mirror. I’ll write about it soon.