translated by Google translation there are thirty-five years now, I had the chance to see live In opera theater Avignon, He was called Monsieur 100,000 Volts And more generally Gilbert BECAUD. The song, the blue horse lifted me, and caused me to have the fund to me, even more enthusiasm. In his recital, and I feasted and filled with happiness, After singing tour, he dedicated it us his drive, With kindness, and a simple way to put us at ease, "SO HOW YOU FOUND THE SHOW" I DIS HIM IN ANY FRANCHISE THAT IT WAS GREAT. Also this singer, and this wonderful man, could never be replaced, And occasionally, I like to be myself the poet, to honor him. Do not forget the gilbert composers becaud, louis amade, Delanoë stone Maurice Vidalin, Charles Aznavour, Frank Thomas, Peter Grosz, Serge Lama, Claude Lemesle, Didier Barbelivien, Luc Plamondon.
The first time I heard this song, It was the theater of Avignon Opera That evening, my favorite star Gilbert Bécaud sang there, We offering his recital, and we were all delighted.
To me, sir 100,000 volts it was passion, It was a voice, melody, text, and also an interpretation, Running through you, and made you into his world, and gave you sensations, So as a child in awe,
You had more eyes than to show this man, And God knows, he was a good show, You, in your office, you could stand it no more, A single word, a single note, caused by you, as a plus.
We were in the 1980s, and France laughed, He sang his new song, blue horse, Immediately I told my wife, I have to buy this blue horse, The words and music were calling me and pulling at me.
This flying horse carrying all our dreams, At the time, the virtual does not exist, Only the cinema, led us in dreams, He was a precursor of our next steps,
The time was coming when, where computers, Would propel us in the illogical, Can even create, fanatical tendencies, On subjects, badly in their skin, and frantic.
For me, the man tends to forget his human side, Reserving, days without tomorrows, Where the dream, will not, and life will be so hard, and if absent compassion, That being, may be unfortunate, and without any concessions.
translated by Google translation
RépondreSupprimerthere are thirty-five years now,
I had the chance to see live
In opera theater Avignon,
He was called Monsieur 100,000 Volts
And more generally Gilbert BECAUD.
The song, the blue horse lifted me, and caused me to have the fund to me, even more enthusiasm.
In his recital, and I feasted and filled with happiness,
After singing tour, he dedicated it us his drive,
With kindness, and a simple way to put us at ease,
"SO HOW YOU FOUND THE SHOW"
I DIS HIM IN ANY FRANCHISE THAT IT WAS GREAT.
Also this singer, and this wonderful man, could never be replaced,
And occasionally, I like to be myself the poet, to honor him.
Do not forget the gilbert composers becaud, louis amade, Delanoë stone
Maurice Vidalin, Charles Aznavour, Frank Thomas, Peter Grosz,
Serge Lama, Claude Lemesle, Didier Barbelivien, Luc Plamondon.
© Or Is My Horse Blue Poem © André Thomas
Music and Song Gilbert Bécaud,
The first time I heard this song,
It was the theater of Avignon Opera
That evening, my favorite star Gilbert Bécaud sang there,
We offering his recital, and we were all delighted.
To me, sir 100,000 volts it was passion,
It was a voice, melody, text, and also an interpretation,
Running through you, and made you into his world, and gave you sensations,
So as a child in awe,
You had more eyes than to show this man,
And God knows, he was a good show,
You, in your office, you could stand it no more,
A single word, a single note, caused by you, as a plus.
We were in the 1980s, and France laughed,
He sang his new song, blue horse,
Immediately I told my wife, I have to buy this blue horse,
The words and music were calling me and pulling at me.
This flying horse carrying all our dreams,
At the time, the virtual does not exist,
Only the cinema, led us in dreams,
He was a precursor of our next steps,
The time was coming when, where computers,
Would propel us in the illogical,
Can even create, fanatical tendencies,
On subjects, badly in their skin, and frantic.
For me, the man tends to forget his human side,
Reserving, days without tomorrows,
Where the dream, will not, and life will be so hard, and if absent compassion,
That being, may be unfortunate, and without any concessions.