DeAnn Louise Daigle AWW 3/3/10
I was in the shower several years ago now, when this strange song came to me. It moved me so deeply, I began singing it and tears rolled down my cheeks as I did so, and something inside me softened, softened -- ever-so-subtly, it was almost imperceptible. I only noticed it after I stopped singing, but I did not want to stop singing. The song, it seemed, was singing me. It was in French. What did that mean? That I sang in French? It felt like a connection to my childhood and my childhood friends -- a time of wonder and questioning and mystery and fear and anxiety too.
But the French felt singular, felt unique and universal all at the same time.
It felt like some deep, deep cry had welled up and it could only be expressed in song. The melody, I found haunting and the words even more so. They were mysterious and filled with wonder.
Et les petite enfants, (3 times), ils vont chanter, ils vont chanter. Repeat
Et les petits enfants, (3 times), ils vont danser, ils vont danser, ils vont danser Repeat
Et les petits enfants, (3 times), ils vont chanter, its vont danser. End
It went on like this for about a half hour, I think, as if I'd been in some kind of trance; and something deep inside me softened, something changed.