Postcard to Mum from Picardy.....

Her coloratura voice is still in my ears, this tune and so many others, like 'je passais aux Tuileries quand dans une allée fleurie...' or, 'c'est l'histoire amoureuse autant que fabuleuse d'un galant fier -à-bras...' and opera arias, and popular songs , in French at that time.
Her singing is part of my life, and I never know when she is going to wink at me with her dear songs. So when her voice fills my memory I am a very young child just after the war and I am delighted to share her passion for giving joy through singing!
Camille 885 from youtube is really the living memory of my youth.

This is a special trip in space and time which I did at the beginning of July, and there she was waiting for a big hug with this 'Roses de picardie,' Roses of Picardy.Sung a lot in 1916 and very popular in the fifties too, almost all opera-singers recorded it and the 'varietés' singers did as well. Jean Lumière here is a wonder.
Back to world war I, we call 'La Grande Guerre' .
A British soldier, wrote the poem: French translation : Mathé Altéry
De ses grands yeux de saphir clair
Aux reflets changeants de la mer,
Colinette regarde la route,
Va rêvant, tressaille, écoute.
Car au loin, dans le silence
Monte un chant enivrant toujours ;
Tremblante, elle est sans défense
Devant ce premier chant d'amour
[Refrain] :
Des roses s'ouvrent en Picardie
Essaimant leurs arômes si doux
Dès que revient l'Avril attiédi,
Il n'en est de pareille à vous !
Nos chemins pourront être un jour écartés
Et les roses perdront leurs couleurs,
L'une, au moins gardera pour moi sa beauté,
C'est la fleur que j'enferme en mon cœur !

A jamais sur l'aile du temps,
Depuis lors ont fui les ans...
Mais il lit dans se yeux la tendresse,
Ses mains n'ont que des caresses ;
Colinette encor voit la route
Qui les a rapprochés un jour,
Quand monta vers son cœur en déroute
Cette ultime chanson d'amour Refrain

Words by Frederick Edward Weatherly

She is watching by the poplars,
Colinette with the sea-blue eyes,
She is watching and longing and waiting
Where the long white road-way lies.
And a song stirs in the silence,
As the wind in the boughs above.
She listens and starts and trembles,
'Tis the first little song of love:

'Roses are shining in Picardy,
In the hush of the silver dew,
Roses are flow'ring in Picardy,
But there's never a rose like you!
And the roses will die with the summertime,
And our roads may be far apart,
But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy!
'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart!'

And the years fly on for ever,
Till the shadows veil their skies,
But he loves to hold her little hands,
And look in her sea-blue eyes.
And she sees the road by the poplars,
Where they met in the by-gone years,
For the first little song of the roses
Is the last little song she hears:

'Roses are shining in Picardy,
In the hush of the silver dew,
Roses are flow'ring in Picardy,
But there's never a rose like you!
And the roses will die with the summertime,
And our roads may be far apart,
But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy!
'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart!'

This is Ben Heppner's rendition I really enjoy listening to: light and caring, old -fashioned as it is. But so daring.

And now that's what it was all about...war and love, and that song could well be on

Rolando's melody recital one day.