BALLYGOWAN FLUTE BAND

Le Reve Passe

Ask anyone in Ireland if they know the march Le Reve Passe, and you will probably get a blank expression. Whistle part of the main melody, and anyone of an age will immediately bounce back with "yes, I know that!" The march was brought to the public's attention by the famous Irish tenor, the late Josef Locke, who probably sang it in every concert hall in Ireland - there's even a clip of him on YouTube singing it in the 1950's film "What A Carry On!"

The Ballygowan Flute Band has been playing Le Reve Passe as a street march for longer than anyone in the band can remember. It has also been in our concert repertoire for some years. The sound track (assuming by now it is playing) is the final strain of the march, and was recorded for a BBC Radio Broadcast. It was made before we purchased the contra bass flutes. A CD of a more recent recording can be supplied on request. 

The original French words go something like this:
Soldiers are there endormis on the plain
The breath of light sings to delude,
The Earth to levelled wheat flavour his breath.
Suddenly here only to the sky Knights without number
Light up the vague clarity lightning
And small cap seems guide these shadows
To immortality.

See you,
Hussar, dragons, the guard
Glorious mad
Of Austerlitz the Eagle watching.
Those of Kléber,
Of Marceau singing victory.
Iron giants
When it will overlap the glory.

But the small soldier
Sees to darken the dream
It seems there
That a storm rises,
The Hydra pointed helmet
Craftily extends;
The child woke, moved. 
But all sleeps in silence
And in his heart the alarm is returned.
The guns!
Clairons!
Listen to!
Look at!

See you, 
Hussar, dragons, the guard
They welcome all
Emperor who look at.

And in a clear country where the harvest dore,
The soul of the small blue reviews an old bell Tower.
Here are the cabin where those that love it
Waiting for the return, takes his skewed gaze.
But suddenly... Pain! He sees the more distant
A veil of terror covered her blue eyes.
Yet black helmets, fire and hatred,
Them that is they are!

See you,
Their Hussar, their dragons, their guard
Dark owls
Resulting in the hagarde virgin,
The old Strasbourg
Frémit under his hair snow.
Mourez drums.
Here's the bloody procession;
Soon the vermeil day
At the horizon rises
It sounds the alarm
And it is still the dream.
Two year's giant
Are replaced by others

And these happy soldiers
France... These are ours.
Loved blondes! Must be dry our eyes.
Your friends here them.
See you,
Hussar, dragons, the army
They will die all
For the new epic.
Proud children
Of the race
Ring to the fields
The dream passes.

Some links which may prove useful: