HOW TO BE A YÉ-YÉ GIRL: #7 – Have a Sense of Humour

Nobody took the yé-yé girls very seriously, and some of the most entertaining ones like Stella and Jacqueline Taïeb actually poked fun at the whole scene.
Jacqueline Taïeb was a teenager who wrote her own songs. “7 heures du matin” was her biggest hit, but I’ve chosen another track.
The title of “Le coeur au bout des doigts” (1967) is difficult to translate. Literally it means something like ‘The (my) heart at the (his) fingertips’ but I think the meaning is closer to the English expression ‘heart in mouth’ i.e. she is excited and nervous.
I took a large part of the translation from here:


Une fleur entre les lèvres
Un sourire au coin des yeux
Un regard rempli de rêves
Et de l'or dans les cheveux
Il éteind sa cigarette
Et me dit "Venez danser"
Comme c'est aujourd'hui ma fête
J'ai envie de vous aimer

Je m'avance vers la piste
Il me serre dans ses bras
Il me dit "Vous semblez triste"
Et je ne lui réponds pas
Il me dit "Je suis poète"
Et carresse mes cheveux
En levant un peu la tête
Je vois qu'il a les yeux bleus

Le coeur au bout des doigts
Le coeur au bout des doigts
Le coeur au bout des doigts

Et quand se termine la danse
Il parle de son chien
De son amour pour la France
De sa mère qui est loin
Puis il me dit que sur Terre
Il n'a eu qu'un seul ami
Et qu'il déteste la guerre
Je lui réponds "Moi aussi"

On se quitte une fois mort
Et le lendemain matin
Il est là devant ma porte
Une guitare à la main
Et d'entrée soudain s'arrête
Quand je lui dis qu'il est beau
Et je ferme la fenêtre
Et il tire les rideaux

Le coeur au bout des doigts
Le coeur au bout des doigts
Le coeur au bout des doigts

A flower between the lips
A twinkle in the corner of the eyes
A glance full of dreams
And some gold in the hair
He puts out his cigarette
And says to me "Go and dance"
As it's my party today
I would like to love you

I walk towards the dancefloor
He pulls me into his arms
He say to me "You seem sad"
And I don't answer him
He tells me "I'm a poet"
And he strokes my hair
When I lift my head a little
I see that he has blue eyes

Heart in mouth
Heart in mouth
Heart in mouth

And when the dance is over
He talks about his dog
Of his love of France
Of his mother who is far away
Also he tells me that on Earth
He has only had a single friend
And that he hates war
I respond "Me too"

We part ways after the death (of the party?)
And the morning after
There he is in front of my door
A guitar in his hand
And suddenly stops himself from coming in
When I tell him that he is beautiful
And I close the window
And he draws the curtains

Heart in mouth
Heart in mouth
Heart in mouth

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