Francois Villon (born Montcorbier) was born in 1431 in France. He graduated from the University of Paris in 1449 and, under the tutelage of Guillaume de Villon (from whom he took his name), the chaplain of St. Benoit-le-Bientourne, he was posed on the cusp of a promising career in Church or Law. However, in 1455 he killed a priest in a quarrel and fled Paris to wander the countryside for four years ending up in the dungeons of Meung-sur-Loire. He would surely have perished but for the chance passing of Louis XI who, honouring his coronation, freed the prisoners.
He returned to Paris to be clapped in irons. Guy Taberie, a former partner in crime, had boasted too loudly of their exploits in a tavern. He was freed yet again but soon was languishing behind bars for his role in a street brawl. This time he was to be hanged -- but at the last moment his death sentence was commuted to ten years banishment. It was 1463 and Villon was 32 years old. He left Paris -- and was never heard from again. His fate is still unknown.
Between spells in prison he produced volumes of what are still considered by many to be the finest French lyric verse ever written. His poem, Le Petit Testament (The Small Testament), known also as Le Lais (The Legacy), was composed about 1455, and Villon's other long poem, Le Grand Testament (The Large Testament), known also simply as Le Testament, soon followed.
The Testaments are mock or imaginary wills in which bequests are made alternately with compassion and with irony. For example, to the Holy Trinity, Villon leaves his soul; to the earth, his body; to a Parisian, Denis, some stolen wine; to a madman, his glasses; to a lover, all the women he wants. At least two of Villon's shorter poems - Ballad of Hanged Men and I Am Francois, They Have Caught Me - were composed in 1462 while under sentance of death.
Very popular during the late 19th century, Villon's poetry was translated into English by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Algernon Swinburne, and, in the 20th century, Ezra Pound. Villon's Ballad of the Women of Yesteryear contains the celebrated lament on the passing of time: Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan? ("But where are the snows of yesteryear?").
As long as the earth still turns, as long as the light is clear.
Lord, grant to everyone - that which they lack.
To the wise grant a sound mind - for the coward procure a horse.
Give money to the contented - and please don't forget about me.I know you are capable of everything, I believe in your wisdom.
As the fallen soldier, believes he will live again in paradise;
As every ear listens and believes in your silent words.
As we ourselves believe - not knowing what we create.- The Prayer of Francois Villon: Bulat Okudzhava