I am telling you about a time
That people under twenty years old would not know.
Montmartre at the time was hanging its lilacs
Up under our windows, and even if our modest furnished (room)
That we used as a nest did not look great,
This is where we met,
Me starving and you posing nude.
La boheme, la boheme, it meant we are happy.
La boheme, la boheme, we only ate every other day.
In the coffee shops nearby
We were a few
Waiting for glory, and although poor
With our empty bellies
We would not stop believing, and when some bistro
For a nice warm meal
Would take a painting, we recited verses,
Gathered around the stove while forgetting the winter.
La boheme, la boheme, it meant you are pretty.
La boheme, la boheme, and we were all talented.
Often I would,
In front of my easel,
Spend sleepless nights
Altering the drawing,
Of the line of a breast,
Of the curve of a hip, and only in the morning,
We would finally sit,
In front of a coffee with milk,
Exhausted but delighted.
We must have loved each other and loved life.
La boheme, la boheme, it meant we are twenty years old.
La boheme, la boheme, we lived from the air of the time [basically feeding ourselves from the floating trend, the present time].
When on a random day
I go for a walk
To my old address
I no longer recognize
Neither the walls, nor the streets
That witnessed my youth.
At the top of a stairway,
I look for the studio
Of which nothing remains.
In its new setting,
Montmartre seems sad and the lilacs are dead.
La boheme, la boheme. We were young, we were foolish.
La boheme, la boheme. It doesn't mean anything anymore.
Youth is so splendid.
To have your whole life ahead of you
To be free and able to laugh and share in the soul of
another human being
It is a sad state of affairs when one is robbed of youth.
Time is short and as you age , you look back at your life, you find it strange that
life goes on without you.
Your foot steps are long swept away by construction, politics
Everything you loved is no longer there.
Others come and trod upon all that you loved and considered special
The old school is still there .
No longer new or respected or loved. The bricks are worn and full of
An indoor rink replaced another old school.
The neighbors ' garden your bunny would escape to, was no longer there
and replaced by a stone building as were others.
The maple leaves no longer cover the street you walked on every fall.
creating a soft colorful pathway you loved so much.
What seemed to be a wide street, was now full of cars on both sides
with just a small path for a car to go through.
You sigh and think My God!
I lived in the best of times!
There is nothing here to come back to.
It never existed and soon neither will you.
and ... did it all matter?
Over the years I used this blog to find ideas I thought would be nice to pass on. I wrote poems and included a few of my paintings. I find music I like listening to, jokes I'd like to come back to, crafts I think would be fun to try.
I discussed a bit of politics and religion because I felt a need to express myself and maybe help some people who may read them. I included history from which I learn. Science is something I enjoy reading about and included here in a Lady's Life.
I am just one voice in many and personal blogs are nice for entertainment purposes..
They are also nice to come back to, to read what you were thinking way back when.
Nothing in this blog is used for profit.
It's just to pass the time.
Taken from http://lyricstranslate.com/en/la-boheme-la-boheme.html-4#ixzz3DbEZHNmc