"The Snows of Yesteryear" by François Villon

If you didn't know, the title of the previous post is from a poem, known to all students of French literature, by François Villon (1431 - 1463, approx.), a rebellious young man whose wild reckless life has inspired many a budding poet, and no doubt led some of them to reject their dull bourgeois upbringing for a life of adventure and lawlessness. Rebel, thief, quarrelsome hothead, Villon was condemned to several prison sentences for serious crimes, but he probably matches Harry Houdini in his ability to slip out of bondage, only to return as quickly as his bad temper could get him into another fix. He was not heard of after 1463 when the courts banished him (had he become an intolerable nuisance?), so the exact length of his life is not known. See Wikipedia for more.

Here is the French text of Villon's great poem from which the line about the "snows of yesteryear" is drawn:

Ballade des dames du temps jadis

Dites-moi où, n'en quel pays,
Est Flora la belle Romaine,
Archipiades, ni Thais,
Qui fut sa cousine germaine,
Écho parlant quand bruit on mène
Dessus rivière ou sus étang,
Qui beauté eut trop plus qu'humaine.
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ?

Où est la très sage Hélois,
Pour qui châtré fut et puis moine
Pierre Esbaillart à Saint Denis ?
Pour son amour eut cette essoyne.
Semblablement où est la reine
Qui commanda que Buridan
Fut jeté en un sac en Seine ?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ?

La reine Blanche comme lys
Qui chantait à voix de sirène,
Berthe au grand pied, Bietris, Alis,
Haremburgis qui tint le Maine,
Et Jeanne la bonne Lorraine
Qu'Anglais brulèrent à Rouen ;
Où sont-ils, où, Vierge souv'raine ?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ?

Prince, n'enquerrez de semaine
Où elles sont, ni de cet an,
Qu'à ce refrain ne vous ramène :
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ?

And here is a readable English version

Ballad of the Ladies of Bygone Times

Tell me where, or in what land
is Flora, the lovely Roman,
or Archipiades, or Thaïs,
who was her first cousin;
or Echo, replying whenever called
across river or pool,
and whose beauty was more than human?
But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Where is that brilliant lady Heloise,
for whose sake Peter Abelard was castrated
and became a monk at Saint-Denis?
He suffered that misfortune because of his love for her.
And where is that queen who
ordered that Buridan
be thrown into the Seine in a sack?
But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Queen Blanche, white as a lily,
who sang with a siren’s voice;
Big-footed Bertha, Beatrice, Alice,
Arembourg who ruled over Maine;
and Joan, the good maiden of Lorraine
who was burned by the English at Rouen —
where are they, where, O sovereign Virgin?
But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Prince, do not ask in a week
where they are, or in a year.
The only answer you will get is this refrain:
But where are the snows of yesteryear?

The above English version is from Bureau of Public Secrets, with excellent notes on the various proper names in the poem. It's an unusual website with translations of "radical" works.

For a somewhat outdated, but very famous, translation into 19th century English, with rhyme, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, click here.

Now listen to the poem set to music by Georges Brassens (1921 - 1981), one of France's great troubadours of the 20th century. Brassens is beloved in France and among Francophiles everywhere, but it is best to know French to appreciate him.



At top, a painting by American Impressionist Albert Krehbiel (1873 - 1945), an artist I recently discovered. I think I've used up most of the winter scenes by Claude Monet!