J'ai Gardé L'accent
Mireille Mathieu
I Kept the Accent
Yes, I kept the accent
that you pick up when born on the Marseille side
It's the garlic from the garden, the olive oil
the grape from latreille
It's the hackberry tree where schoolchildren play
That a cicada cheers up
When Pagnol's sea, holding back its waves
Falls asleep daydreaming
And dreams of a sailor who slips a ring on it
The sea with our accent!
When the Mistral wind messes up the market women
Playing Almighty
And makes the sky bluer than lavender for us
The wind with our accent!
Yes, I kept the accent
that you pick up when born on the Marseille side
It's the paternal farmhouse, walls the color of honey
with ripe tomatoes
It's the roof tile, like a bit of dialect
that the evening sun shines on
When Daudet's night puts sails on the windmills
Turning and creaking
And the sky swarms with millions of stars
The sea with our accent!
When Giono's summer returns in transhumance
And the vacationers, imitating and laughing
The Provence dialect
The world with our accent!
Yes, I kept the accent
that you pick up when born on the Marseille side
It's the church bell accent, the shepherds' Christmas in the night
of wonders
It's the Provençal pride, Mistral's glory
It's the accent of... Mireille!
