Written by

François Villon in 1461,

after his release under

an amnesty and before

a new arrest

Tell me where,

or in what land

is Flora, the lovely Roman,

or Archipiades, or Thaïs,

who was her first cousin;

or Echo, replying

whenever called

across river or pool,

and whose beauty

was more than human?

But where are

the snows of yesteryear?

And where is

that queen who

ordered that Buridan

be thrown into

the Seine in a sack?

But where are

the snows of yesteryear?

Queen Blanche,

white as a lily,

who sang with

a siren’s voice;

Big-footed Bertha,

Beatrice, Alice,

Arembourg who

ruled over Maine;

And Joan, the good

maiden of Lorraine

who was burned by

the English at Rouen —

where are they, where,

O sovereign Virgin?

But where are

the snows of yesteryear?

Prince, do not ask

in a week where

they are, or in a year.

The only answer you

will get is this refrain:

But where are

the snows of yesteryear?