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Jeanne d'Arc

Luc Besson a fait un film sur elle…

… un film qui est ce qu’il est. J’ai apprécié personnellement l’interprétation de Mila Jovovich, mais c’est tout. Il n'empêche cependant que le personnage historique est dorénavant lié à Jean-Marie Le Pen, POINT ! Si vous avez le culot, comme moi, d'aimer le parcours lumineux et plein de grâce de Jeanne d'Arc, on vous traitera systématiquement de Fasciste. Les médias, au lieu d'expliquer, d'éduquer, d'analyser, jouent simplement le jeu de cette diabolisation anti-Le Pen, diabolisant du coup une grande figure historique issue des hautes heures flamboyantes du moyen-âge français.

Mais mieux vaut deux petites chansons qu’un long discours.

Comme chacun le sait, Luc Besson est un fasciste ! Bob Dylan et Leonard Cohen le sont également. Patti Smith aussi. Et votre serviteur n’en parlons pas.

Voici deux superbes chansons. « Changing of the Guards » de Bob Dylan, reprise ici par Patti Smith. Et « Joan of Arc » de et par Leonard Cohen. Les fichiers sont très compressés mais vous vous ferez une idée. Achetez les disques…

À vos dicos...

"Patti Smith : Changing of the Guards.mp3 (Bob Dylan)

Sixteen years,
Sixteen banners united over the field
Where the good shepherd grieves.
Desperate men, desperate women divided,
Spreading their wings 'neath the falling leaves.

Fortune calls.
I stepped forth from the shadows, to the marketplace,
Merchants and thieves, hungry for power, my last deal gone down.
She's smelling sweet like the meadows where she was born,
On midsummer's eve, near the tower.

The cold-blooded moon.
The captain waits above the celebration
Sending his thoughts to a beloved maid
Whose ebony face is beyond communication.
The captain is down but still believing that his love will be repaid.

They shaved her head.
She was torn between Jupiter and Apollo.
A messenger arrived with a black nightingale.
I seen her on the stairs and I couldn't help but follow,
Follow her down past the fountain where they lifted her veil.

I stumbled to my feet.
I rode past destruction in the ditches
With the stitches still mending 'neath a heart-shaped tattoo.
Renegade priests and treacherous young witches
Were handing out the flowers that I'd given to you.

The palace of mirrors
Where dog soldiers are reflected,
The endless road and the wailing of chimes,
The empty rooms where her memory is protected,
Where the angels' voices whisper to the souls of previous times.

She wakes him up
Forty-eight hours later, the sun is breaking
Near broken chains, mountain laurel and rolling rocks.
She's begging to know what measures he now will be taking.
He's pulling her down and she's clutching on to his long golden locks.

Gentlemen, he said,
I don't need your organization, I've shined your shoes,
I've moved your mountains and marked your cards
But Eden is burning, either brace yourself for elimination
Or else your hearts must have the courage for the changing of the guards.

Peace will come
With tranquility and splendor on the wheels of fire
But will bring us no reward when her false idols fall
And cruel death surrenders with its pale ghost retreating
Between the King and the Queen of Swords."

... et...

"Leonard Cohen : Joan Of Arc.mp3 (Leonard Cohen)

Now the flames they followed joan of arc
As she came riding through the dark;
No moon to keep her armour bright,
No man to get her through this very smoky night.
She said, Im tired of the war,
I want the kind of work I had before,
A wedding dress or something white
To wear upon my swollen appetite.

Well, Im glad to hear you talk this way,
You know Ive watched you riding every day
And something in me yearns to win
Such a cold and lonesome heroine.
And who are you? she sternly spoke
To the one beneath the smoke.
Why, Im fire, he replied,
And I love your solitude, I love your pride.

Then fire, make your body cold,
Im going to give you mine to hold,
Saying this she climbed inside
To be his one, to be his only bride.
And deep into his fiery heart
He took the dust of joan of arc,
And high above the wedding guests
He hung the ashes of her wedding dress.

It was deep into his fiery heart
He took the dust of joan of arc,
And then she clearly understood
If he was fire, oh then she must be wood.
I saw her wince, I saw her cry,
I saw the glory in her eye.
Myself I long for love and light,
But must it come so cruel, and oh so bright ? "

Vous me direz, Bob Dylan doit être "douteux" puisque depuis un certain accident en moto il y a presque 40 ans, il a vu le Christ et s'est converti !

En tout cas, l'image de la pucelle de France a frappé suffisament l'imagination de ces deux poètes, Dylan (alias Robert Zimmerman) et Cohen, issus de la communauté juive ( !!!) pour qu'ils en fassent au moins deux belles chansons... assez révélatrices. Deux chansons en toute Liberté.

Heureusement qu'il existe encore quelques esprits libres comme eux ici-bas.