by
Paul Collin (1845 - 1915)
Le Marchand de Marrons
Language: French (Français)
Available translation(s): ENG
Il est revenu, le marchand
Avec sa modeste boutique
Dont le chaud parfum alléchant
Invite de loin la pratique.
Quand ce marchand-là reparaît
A Paris, au coin de nos rues,
On nous dit bien que la forêt
Pleure ses feuilles disparues ;
J’en sais qui poussent les hauts cris
En pensant que les hirondelles,
Trouvant déjà notre ciel gris,
Fuient loin de nous à tire d’ailes.
Plus d’un a déjà le frisson
En songeant que l’hiver morose
Se rapproche, et que la maison
Contre ses rigueurs est mal close !
Nous sommes jeunes, la gaité
Doit demeurer notre partage !
Que ce soit l'hiver ou l'été,
Rions toujours, c'est le plus sage!
Puisque maintenant sur nos fronts
L'aquilon souffle, au lieu des brises,
Crions donc: vivent les marrons,
Puisque mortes sont les cerises !
Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Reynaldo Hahn (1874 - 1947), "Le Marchand de Marrons", published 1899 [ voice and piano ], Confirmed with Supplément Musical de l'Illustration, numéro de Noël, 1899-1900, Chansons enfantines [sung text checked 2 times]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Iain Sneddon) , "The Chestnut Seller", copyright © 2022, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Iain Sneddon
[Guest Editor] , Garrett Medlock
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website: 2019-02-20
Line count: 24
Word count: 134
The Chestnut Seller
Language: English  after the French (Français)
He's back, the Chestnut Seller
With his simple stall
Whose warm enticing scents
Invite custom from far and wide.
When this seller reappears
In Paris, at every street corner,
We are told that the forest
Cries for its vanished leaves;
I know some who emit high cries
Imagining that the swallows,
Already finding our sky grey,
Flee from us and take wing.
More than one already shivers
Thinking that the gloomy winter
Gets closer, and that their home
Is poorly protected against its rigors!
We are young, merriment
Must always be our portion!
Whether it is winter or summer,
Always laugh, that's wisest!
Since now on our foreheads
The north wind blows, instead of breezes,
Let's shout: long live roasted chestnuts,
Since the cherries are dead!
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2022 by Iain Sneddon, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Paul Collin (1845 - 1915)
This text was added to the website: 2022-06-09
Line count: 24
Word count: 126