Despite the numerous biographies, many facts and events of Édith's life are shrouded in mystery. She was born Édith Giovanna Gassion in Belleville, Paris, France, the high-immigration district later described by Daniel Pennac. Legend has it that she was born on the pavement of Rue de Belleville 72 but according to her birth certificate that was at Hôpital Tenon, the Belleville arrondissement hospital. She was named Édith after the executed British nurse Edith Cavell (Piaf —Parisian jargon for "sparrow"— came from a nickname she would receive twenty years later).
Her mother, Annetta Giovanna Maillard (1898 – 1945), was a partly-Italian 17-year-old girl, native of Livorno, working as a café singer under the pseudonym Line Marsa; from her, Édith took the middle name of Giovanna. Her father, Louis-Alphonse Gassion (1881 – 1944), was a street acrobat with a theatrical past. The little Édith was soon abandoned and left for a short time to her maternal grandmother, Mena (probably a Kabyle). Shortly after, Édith's father brought the child to his mother, who ran a brothel in Normandy, and then joined the French Army (1916). Thus Édith was in contact with the prostitutes and the various attenders of the brothel since her early years, a circumstance which must have had a deep impact on her personality and vision of life.
From the age of three to seven she was blind. As part of Piaf's legend, she allegedly recovered her sight after her grandmother's prostitutes went on a pilgrimage to Saint Thérèse de Lisieux. In 1929 she joined her father in his acrobatic street performances. Then took a room at Grand Hôtel de Clermont (18 rue Veron, Paris 18ème) and separated from him, going her own way as a street singer in Pigalle, Ménilmontant and Paris suburbs (cf. the song "Elle fréquentait la Rue Pigalle"). She was about 16 years of age when she fell in love with a delivery-boy, Louis Dupont, and shortly after had a child, a little girl named Marcelle. Sadly, Marcelle died in infancy of meningitis.
In 1935, Édith was discovered in the Pigalle area of Paris by the nightclub owner Louis Leplée, whose club was frequented by the upper and lower classes alike. He persuaded her to sing despite her extreme nervousness, which, combined with her height of only 4' 8" (142 cm) inspired him to give her the nickname that would stay with her for the rest of her life and become her stage name: La Môme Piaf (The Little Sparrow). Her first record was produced in the same year. Shortly afterwards, Leplée was murdered and Piaf was accused of being an accessory; she was acquitted.
In 1940, Jean Cocteau wrote the successful play Le Bel Indifférent for her to star in. She began to make friends with famous people, such as the actor Maurice Chevalier and the poet Jacques Borgeat. She wrote the lyrics of many of her songs, and collaborated with composers on the tunes.
Her signature song, "La vie en rose" (which was voted a Grammy Hall of Fame Award in 1998) was written in the middle of the German occupation of Paris in World War II. During this time, she was in great demand and very successful. She befriended many high-ranking Germans and sang for them. It is said that she collaborated with the Nazis, too. After the war, she toured Europe, the United States, and South America, becoming an internationally known figure. Her popularity in the U.S. was such that she appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show eight times. She helped to launch the career of Charles Aznavour, taking him on tour with her in France and the United States.
The great love of Piaf's life, the boxer Marcel Cerdan, died in 1949. Piaf was married twice. Her first husband was Jacques Pills, a singer; they married in 1952 and divorced in 1956. Her second husband, Theophanis Lamboukas (also known as Théo Sarapo), was a hairdresser-turned-singer and actor, and was twenty years younger than Piaf; they married in 1962.
In 1951 she was in a car accident, and thereafter had difficulty breaking a serious morphine habit.
The Paris Olympia is the place where Piaf achieved fame and where, just a few months before her death, she gave one of her most memorable concerts while barely able to stand. In early 1963, Piaf recorded her last song, "L'homme de Berlin".
At the early age of 47, Piaf died of cancer in Plascassier, on the French riviera, on October 10, 1963. Her friend Jean Cocteau, very shocked and afflicted by her death, died a few hours later. Her body was returned to Paris where her death was only announced on October 11, the official date of her death. She was buried in Père Lachaise cemetery, Paris. Although she was forbidden a Mass by the Roman Catholic archbishop of Paris (because of her lifestyle), her funeral procession drew hundreds of thousands of mourners onto the streets of Paris and the ceremony at the cemetery was jammed with more than forty thousand fans. Charles Aznavour recalled that Piaf's funeral procession was the only time, since the end of World War II, that Parisian traffic came to a complete stop.
There is a museum dedicated to Piaf, the Musée Édith Piaf at 5, rue Crespin du Gast, 75011, Paris.
Today she is still remembered and revered as one of the greatest singers France has ever produced. Her life was one of sharp contrasts: the range of her fame as opposed to her tragic personal life, and her fragile small figure on stage with the resounding power of her voice.
Cri du coeur
Édith Piaf Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
C'est d'autres voix, une foule de voix,
Voix d'aujourd'hui ou d'autrefois,
Des voix marrantes, ensoleillées,
Désespérées, émerveillées,
Voix déchirantes et brisées
Voix souriantes et affolées,
Foll's de douleur et de gaieté
La voix de l'amour mort ou vif,
La voix d'un pauvre fugitif,
La voix d'un noyé qui fait plouf.
C'est la voix d'une enfant qu'on gifl',
C'est la voix d'un oiseau craintif,
C'est la voix d'un moineau mort de froid
Sur le pavé d'la rue d'la Joie.
Et toujours, toujours quand je chante,
Cet oiseau-là chante avec moi ;
Toujours, Toujours encore vivante,
Sa pauvre voix tremble pour moi.
Si je disais tout ce qu'il chante,
Tout c' que j'ai vu et tout c' que j'sais,
J'en dirai trop et pas assez
Et tout ça je veux l'oublier.
D'autres voix chantent un vieux refrain
C'est leur souv'nir, c'est plus le mien.
Je n'ai plus qu'un seul cri du coeur :
J'aim' pas l'malheur,
J'aim'pas l'malheur
Et le malheur me le rend bien.
Mais j' le connais,
Il m'fait plus peur.
Il dit qu'on est mariés ensemble :
Mêm' si c'est vrai, je n'en crois rien.
Sans pitié j'écrase mes larm's,
Je leur fait pas d'publicité ;
Si on tirait l'signal d'alarme
Pour des chagrins particulier,
Jamais les trains n'pourraient rouler.
Et je regarde le paysage ;
Si par hasard il est trop laid.
J'attends qu'il se r'fasse une beauté.
Et les douaniers du désespoir
Peuv'nt bien éventrer mes bagages,
Me palper et me questionner,
J'ai jamais rien à déclarer.
L'amour comm' moi part en voyage,
Un jour je le rencontrerai ;
A pein' j'aurai vu son visage
Tout d'suite je le reconnaîtrai.
In Edith Piaf's song "Cri du cœur," the singer describes the multitude of voices that she hears inside her when she sings. These voices can be happy, hopeful, desperate, and broken, representing various emotions and experiences. The singer talks about the different kinds of voices she hears, from an innocent child to a freezing sparrow on a street corner, and how they all come together as one to create her unique sound.
Piaf also discusses the pain and heartbreak that she has experienced throughout her life and how she tries to separate herself from them while singing. She wants to forget everything and focus on the beauty of music instead. However, she realizes that her pain is a part of her, and it will always be present in her voice, no matter what.
Ultimately, the song is a beautiful reflection on the power of music to bring together various emotions and experiences and how we can express our pain and joy through it.
Line by Line Meaning
C'est pas seul'ment ma voix qui chante,
It's not just my voice that sings,
C'est d'autres voix, une foule de voix,
It's other voices, a crowd of voices,
Voix d'aujourd'hui ou d'autrefois,
Voices of today or yesterday,
Des voix marrantes, ensoleillées,
Playful and sunny voices,
Désespérées, émerveillées,
Desperate and amazed voices,
Voix déchirantes et brisées
Heart-wrenching and broken voices
Voix souriantes et affolées,
Smiling and frantic voices,
Foll's de douleur et de gaieté
Full of pain and joy,
C'est la voix d'un chagrin tout neuf,
It's the voice of a brand new sorrow,
La voix de l'amour mort ou vif,
The voice of love, dead or alive,
La voix d'un pauvre fugitif,
The voice of a poor fugitive,
La voix d'un noyé qui fait plouf.
The voice of a drowning man who goes plop.
C'est la voix d'une enfant qu'on gifl',
It's the voice of a child being slapped,
C'est la voix d'un oiseau craintif,
It's the voice of a fearful bird,
C'est la voix d'un moineau mort de froid
It's the voice of a sparrow dead from the cold
Sur le pavé d'la rue d'la Joie.
On the pavement of Joy street.
Et toujours, toujours quand je chante,
And always, always when I sing,
Cet oiseau-là chante avec moi ;
That bird sings with me.
Toujours, toujours encore vivante,
Always, always still alive,
Sa pauvre voix tremble pour moi.
Its poor voice trembles for me.
Si je disais tout ce qu'il chante,
If I told everything it sings,
Tout c' que j'ai vu et tout c' que j'sais,
All that I've seen and all that I know,
J'en dirai trop et pas assez
I would say too much and not enough.
Et tout ça je veux l'oublier.
And all of that I want to forget.
D'autres voix chantent un vieux refrain
Other voices sing an old refrain,
C'est leur souv'nir, c'est plus le mien.
It's their memory, not mine.
Je n'ai plus qu'un seul cri du coeur :
Now I only have one cry from the heart
J'aim' pas l'malheur,
I don't like misfortune,
J'aim'pas l'malheur
I don't like misfortune
Et le malheur me le rend bien.
And misfortune returns the favor.
Mais j' le connais,
But I know it,
Il m'fait plus peur.
It doesn't scare me anymore.
Il dit qu'on est mariés ensemble :
It says we are married together,
Mêm' si c'est vrai, je n'en crois rien.
Even if it's true, I don't believe it.
Sans pitié j'écrase mes larm's,
Without pity, I crush my tears,
Je leur fait pas d'publicité ;
I don't advertise them.
Si on tirait l'signal d'alarme
If the alarm were sounded,
Pour des chagrins particulier,
For private sorrows,
Jamais les trains n'pourraient rouler.
Trains would never be able to run.
Et je regarde le paysage ;
And I look at the landscape;
Si par hasard il est trop laid.
If by chance it's too ugly.
J'attends qu'il se r'fasse une beauté.
I wait for it to become beautiful again.
Et les douaniers du désespoir
And the customs officers of despair
Peuv'nt bien éventrer mes bagages,
Could well go through my luggage,
Me palper et me questionner,
Pat me down and question me,
J'ai jamais rien à déclarer.
I never have anything to declare.
L'amour comm' moi part en voyage,
Love, like me, goes on a journey,
Un jour je le rencontrerai ;
One day I will meet it;
A pein' j'aurai vu son visage
As soon as I've seen its face
Tout d'suite je le reconnaîtrai.
I will recognize it immediately.
Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing, LES NOUVELLES EDITIONS MERIDIAN
Written by: Jacques PREVERT, HENRI CROLLA
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@flyintheointment
C'est pas seul'ment ma voix qui chante,
C'est d'autres voix, une foule de voix,
Voix d'aujourd'hui ou d'autrefois,
Des voix marrantes, ensoleillées,
Désespérées, émerveillées,
Voix déchirantes et brisées
Voix souriantes et affolées,
Foll's de douleur et de gaieté
C'est la voix d'un chagrin tout neuf,
La voix de l'amour mort ou vif,
La voix d'un pauvre fugitif,
La voix d'un noyé qui fait plouf.
C'est la voix d'une enfant qu'on gifl',
C'est la voix d'un oiseau craintif,
C'est la voix d'un moineau mort de froid
Sur le pavé d'la rue d'la Joie.
Et toujours, toujours quand je chante,
Cet oiseau-là chante avec moi ;
Toujours, Toujours encore vivante,
Sa pauvre voix tremble pour moi.
Si je disais tout ce qu'il chante,
Tout c' que j'ai vu et tout c' que j'sais,
J'en dirai trop et pas assez
Et tout ça je veux l'oublier.
D'autres voix chantent un vieux refrain
C'est leur souv'nir, c'est plus le mien.
Je n'ai plus qu'un seul cri du coeur :
J'aim' pas l'malheur,
J'aim'pas l'malheur
Et le malheur me le rend bien.
Mais j' le connais,
Il m'fait plus peur.
Il dit qu'on est mariés ensemble :
Mêm' si c'est vrai, je n'en crois rien.
Sans pitié j'écrase mes larm's,
Je leur fait pas d'publicité ;
Si on tirait l'signal d'alarme
Pour des chagrins particulier,
Jamais les trains n'pourraient rouler.
Et je regarde le paysage ;
Si par hasard il est trop laid.
J'attends qu'il se r'fasse une beauté.
Et les douaniers du désespoir
Peuv'nt bien éventrer mes bagages,
Me palper et me questionner,
J'ai jamais rien à déclarer.
L'amour comm' moi part en voyage,
Un jour je le rencontrerai ;
A pein' j'aurai vu son visage
Tout d'suite je le reconnaîtrai.
@learnersdisciple9950
That's not only my voice which is singing
That's the other voice, a crowd of voices
Voices of today or of the past
Funny, sunny voices
Desperate, amazed
Torn, broken voices
Smiley, excited voices
Full of pain and happiness
That's the voice of a brand new sadness
The voice of dead or sharp love
The voice of a poor fugitive
The voice of a drowned who makes "splash"
That's the voice of a child who gets slapped
That's the voice of a fearful bird
The voice of a freezing sparrow
On the pavement of the street of joy...
And always, always when I sing
This bird sings with me
Always, always, still alive
Its poor voice shakes for me
If I said everything it sings
All I have seen and all I know
I'd say too much and not enough
And I want to forget all this
Other voices sing an old chorus
It's their memory, that's not mine anymore
I only have one cry of the heart left
"I don't like misfortune! I don't like misfortune!"
And misfortune gets as good as I get
But I know it, it doesn't scare me anymore
It says we're married to each other
Even if it's true, I don't believe it
I wipe my tears without pity
I don't promote them
If we sounded the alarm
For personal pains
Trains could never ride
And I look at the landscape
If it's ever too ugly
I wait for it to do itself up
And the border guards of despair
Can always slash my luggage
Search and interrogate me
I never have something to declare
Love goes on a journey, like I do
One day I'll find it
By the time I see its face
I'll recognize it right away
@flyintheointment
C'est pas seul'ment ma voix qui chante,
C'est d'autres voix, une foule de voix,
Voix d'aujourd'hui ou d'autrefois,
Des voix marrantes, ensoleillées,
Désespérées, émerveillées,
Voix déchirantes et brisées
Voix souriantes et affolées,
Foll's de douleur et de gaieté
C'est la voix d'un chagrin tout neuf,
La voix de l'amour mort ou vif,
La voix d'un pauvre fugitif,
La voix d'un noyé qui fait plouf.
C'est la voix d'une enfant qu'on gifl',
C'est la voix d'un oiseau craintif,
C'est la voix d'un moineau mort de froid
Sur le pavé d'la rue d'la Joie.
Et toujours, toujours quand je chante,
Cet oiseau-là chante avec moi ;
Toujours, Toujours encore vivante,
Sa pauvre voix tremble pour moi.
Si je disais tout ce qu'il chante,
Tout c' que j'ai vu et tout c' que j'sais,
J'en dirai trop et pas assez
Et tout ça je veux l'oublier.
D'autres voix chantent un vieux refrain
C'est leur souv'nir, c'est plus le mien.
Je n'ai plus qu'un seul cri du coeur :
J'aim' pas l'malheur,
J'aim'pas l'malheur
Et le malheur me le rend bien.
Mais j' le connais,
Il m'fait plus peur.
Il dit qu'on est mariés ensemble :
Mêm' si c'est vrai, je n'en crois rien.
Sans pitié j'écrase mes larm's,
Je leur fait pas d'publicité ;
Si on tirait l'signal d'alarme
Pour des chagrins particulier,
Jamais les trains n'pourraient rouler.
Et je regarde le paysage ;
Si par hasard il est trop laid.
J'attends qu'il se r'fasse une beauté.
Et les douaniers du désespoir
Peuv'nt bien éventrer mes bagages,
Me palper et me questionner,
J'ai jamais rien à déclarer.
L'amour comm' moi part en voyage,
Un jour je le rencontrerai ;
A pein' j'aurai vu son visage
Tout d'suite je le reconnaîtrai.
@claudedrouhin7984
Jacques Prévert
@hugoperrin2450
Juste magnifique !
@learnersdisciple9950
That's not only my voice which is singing
That's the other voice, a crowd of voices
Voices of today or of the past
Funny, sunny voices
Desperate, amazed
Torn, broken voices
Smiley, excited voices
Full of pain and happiness
That's the voice of a brand new sadness
The voice of dead or sharp love
The voice of a poor fugitive
The voice of a drowned who makes "splash"
That's the voice of a child who gets slapped
That's the voice of a fearful bird
The voice of a freezing sparrow
On the pavement of the street of joy...
And always, always when I sing
This bird sings with me
Always, always, still alive
Its poor voice shakes for me
If I said everything it sings
All I have seen and all I know
I'd say too much and not enough
And I want to forget all this
Other voices sing an old chorus
It's their memory, that's not mine anymore
I only have one cry of the heart left
"I don't like misfortune! I don't like misfortune!"
And misfortune gets as good as I get
But I know it, it doesn't scare me anymore
It says we're married to each other
Even if it's true, I don't believe it
I wipe my tears without pity
I don't promote them
If we sounded the alarm
For personal pains
Trains could never ride
And I look at the landscape
If it's ever too ugly
I wait for it to do itself up
And the border guards of despair
Can always slash my luggage
Search and interrogate me
I never have something to declare
Love goes on a journey, like I do
One day I'll find it
By the time I see its face
I'll recognize it right away
@levieuxpiano
Cette chanson exprime la quintessence de Piaf, sublimée par les grands J. Prévert et H. Crolla.
@mahmoudrady808
Best of all times
@norbertgabriel2765
Enregistrement unique en voix guitare, celle du compositeur Henri Crolla ..
@anneso8924
Je n'ai qu'un seul cri du cœur j'aime pas le malheur j'aime pas le malheur mais le malheur me le rend bien mais je l'connais y m'fait plus peur, il dit qu'on est marié ensemble même si c'est vrai je n'en crois RIEN! <3
@laureorsot86
Magnifique
@DavidM1917
Beau chant; vif et tenace comme le chant d'un oiseau libéré de toute attache.