L’Air De La Misère (literally The Air of Misery / Ode to Poverty / The Poverty Song). As I’m sure you all already know, this later became On My Own, sung by
Éponine instead.
Here’s a blog that (I think) gives a good explanation of why the theme/lyrics were changed for the English production.
“The song has Fantine singing about the plight of the impoverished–not necessarily how it related to her in particular, but all poor people. It was an accusatory song, it was a chilling song, and it was a perfect companion song to her second piece [I Dreamed a Dream].”
AND
“The original song was a giantly depressing and hauntingly gripping ode to poverty, and while French audiences dig that kinda thing, the English team weren’t so sure that Britain was ready for “Ode to Poverty.” (Plus the blog author feels the original lyrics were just difficult to get across in English.)
Air of Misery/Ode to Poverty I had some pretty faults I dreamed all the time, I was coquettish A bit naive, but not too much To never lose my head And I would take pleasure in a birdsong, in a new day. I have only one grey dress left Which also serves as a blanket When the icy winter wind Swirls at night in my hovel And a great deal more honour and dignity at the bottom of my heart
Misery is the mother of no one Misery is nevertheless sister of men But no one on earth wants for a daughter A bastard born in a dungeon of the Bastille Misery brings about distress, Many vices and all weaknesses Misery lets out the beast in man And the chickadee thus turns into a stray bitch (dog).
It is necessary to feel yourself survive In a child you gave birth to And in whose source of innocence We drown our hopelessness So we don’t end This life without a tomorrow.
Misery is the mother of no one Misery is nevertheless sister of men But no one on earth wants for a daughter A bastard born in a dungeon of the Bastille Misery brings about distress, Many vices and all weaknesses Misery lets out the beast in man And the chickadee turns into a stray bitch (dog).
ORIGINAL FRENCH LYRICS J’avais de si jolis défauts J’étais rêveuse, j’étais coquette Un peu naïve mais pas trop Pour ne jamais perdre la tête Et je me faisais fête D’un chant d’oiseau, d’un jour nouveau Je n’ai plus qu’un robe grise Qui sert aussi de couverture Quand le vent glacé de l’hiver Tourne la nuit dans ma masure Et plus beaucoup d’honneur De dignité au fond du cœur
La misère n’est mère de personne La misère est pourtant sœur des hommes Mais personne sur terre n’en veut pour fille Comme bâtarde née dans un cachot de la Bastille La misère enfante la détresse Bien des vices et toutes les faiblesses La misère lâche la bête en l’homme Et la mésange alors en chienne errante se transforme
Il faut qu’on se sente survivre Dans un enfant qu’on a fait vivre Et qu’en sa source d’innocence On noie notre désespérance Pour ne pas mettre fin à cette vie sans lendemain
La misère n’est mère de personne La misère est pourtant sœur des hommes Mais personne sur terre n’en veut pour fille Comme bâtarde née dans un cachot de la Bastille Le misère enfante la détresse Bien des vices et toutes les faiblesses La misère lâche la bête en l’homme Et la mésange alors en chienne errante se transforme.
maybe it’s bc i’ve been going back and reading bits of the brick again but for some reason canon era combeferre popped up on my tablet while i was concepting in class today and then wouldn’t let go of me .
Oh, this is gorgeous! The colors all look so rich!
enjolras and grantaire walking home together in mid-october and enjolras is complaining about his hands being cold and grantaire keeps telling him that they’re obviously not that cold and enjolras sticks out a hand for him to feel how cold they are, he takes it, mutters something about them not being cold enough for him to complain about it, but doesn’t let go and they both have to duck down behind their scarves because they’re b l u s h i ng
OH HKFGHFGF
I WISH I WAS BETTER AT DRAWING SO I COULD DO THIS JUSTICE.
