Adieu Recouvrance (Goodbye Recouvrance – a river port city in France) is a traditional French sailor’s song. The song speaks of abandoning egoistic ambitions and accepting the suffering that comes with war.
One can imagine the scene through the lyrics:The second mate of a ship is training a young sailor, who seems to be caught up in his dreams – receiving a promotion, fantasizing that love will defeat war, and expecting a happy life.
The second mate tells him he can sing to the wind about this, but issues this warning: If a sailor on the top sail becomes distracted with daydreams, he will lose focus, a gust of wind will throw him off the ship, and then it is “Adieu Recouvrance.” The second mate advises the young sailor to cast out all his illusions, reminding him that sailors are not made for happiness but to accomplish their mission.
Adieu Recouvrance is here interpreted by Les Marins D’Iroise.
Listen to Adieu Recouvrance
French lyrics:
En quittant Brest et Recouvrance,
Adieu la France,
Pour aller fair’ la guerre à l’Anglais,
Chantons sans regret,
Car là-bas, dans les mers lointaines,
On d’viendra de grands capitaines.
T’auras du galon, mon garçon,
Mais faudra monter au mât de misaine,
T’auras du galon, mon garçon,
Mais faudra monter au mât d’artimon.
La chanson que fredonnait naguère,
Ô mat’lot cell’ qui est douce à ton cœur,
Dit au vent qu’l’amour vaincra la guerre,
Et qu’au r’tour tu trouv’ras le bonheur,
Dit au vent qu’l’amour vaincra la guerre,
Et qu’au r’tour tu trouv’ras le bonheur.
Mais l’gabier qui, dans la grand’hune,
Rêve à la lune,
Ne r’verra plus les côtes de France,
Adieu Recouvrance,
Car soudain un coup d’vent le jette,
Et sur l’pont le v’là tout en miettes.
T’auras pas d’galon mon garçon,
Car faut pas tomber du mât de misaine,
T’auras pas d’galon mon garçon,
Car faut pas tomber du mât d’artimon.
La chanson que fredonnait ta mère
Ô mat’lot gard’ la toujours dans ton cœur
Mais dans l’eau faut j’ter tout’s nos chimères
Les marins n’sont pas faits pour l’bonheur
Mais dans l’eau faut j’ter tout’s nos chimères
Les marins n’sont pas faits pour l’bonheur
English translation:
Leaving Brest and Recouvrance,
Farewell, France,
To go to wage war against the English,
Let us sing without regrets,
Because there, on the distant seas,
We will become great captains.
You will earn your stripe, my boy,
But you will have to climb the foremast,
You will earn your stripe, my boy,
But you will have to climb the mizzen mast.
The song that you used to hum,
O sailor, which is dear to your heart,
That tells the winds that love will overcome war,
And on your return you will find happiness,
That tells the winds that love will overcome war,
And on return you will find happiness.
But the boatswain who, while on the top sail,
Dreams about the moon,
Will never see the coasts of France again.
Goodbye, Recouvrance;
For suddenly a gust of wind will throw him, [off]
And on the bridge he will lie all in pieces.
You will have no stripe, my boy,
So do not fall from the foremast,
You will have no stripe my boy,
So do not fall from the mizzen mast.
The song that your mother hummed,
O sailor, keep always in your heart,
But in the water we must cast out all our chimeras,
Sailors are not made for happiness.
But in the water we must cast out all our chimeras,
Sailors are not made for happiness.
/P086_Re1.jpg)
/P086_Re2.jpg)