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En allant se coucher le soleil Se reflète au vernis de ma table : C'est le fromage rond de la fable Au bec de mes ciseaux devermeil. Mais où est le corbeau ? Il vole. Je voudrais coudre mais un aimant Attire à lui toutes mes aiguilles. Sur la place les joueurs de quilles De belle en belle passent le temps. Mais où est mon amant ? Il vole. C'est un voleur que j'ai pour amant, Le corbeau vole et mon amant vole, Voleur de cœur manque à sa parole Et voleur de fromage est absent. Mais où est le bonheur ? Il vole. Je pleure sous le saule pleureur Je mêle mes larmes à ses feuilles Je pleure car je veux qu'on me veuille Et je ne plais pas à mon voleur. Mais où donc est l'amour ? Il vole. Trouvez la rime à ma déraison Et par les routes du paysage Ramenez-moi mon amant volage Qui prend les cœurs et perd ma raison. Je veux que mon voleur me vole.
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Authorship:
- by Louise de Vilmorin (1902 - 1969), "Il vole", written 1939, appears in Fiançailles pour rire, no. 6, Paris, Éd. NRF Gallimard, first published 1939 [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Francis Poulenc (1899 - 1963), "Il vole", FP 101 no. 3 (1939), first performed 1942 [ soprano and piano ], from Fiançailles pour rire, no. 3 [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Laura Claycomb) , "He steals away", copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 25
Word count: 172
Along with the setting of the sun, it reflects on the varnish of my table: It's the round cheese of the fable at the beak of my ruby scissors. But where is the crow? He steals away. I'd like to sew but a magnet attracts all my needles. On the square the lawn bowlers pass their time flirting. But where's my lover? He steals away. It's a thief that I have for a lover, The crow flies and my lover steals, Heart-stealer doesn't keep his word and the cheese stealer is absent. But where's happiness? He steals it. But where's happiness? It flies away. I weep under the weeping willow; I mix my tears with its leaves. I cry because I want someone to want me, but I don't please my thief. But where then is love? It flies away. Find the reason in my rhyme And from the routes of the countryside Bring me back my flighty lover Who steals hearts and loses my mind. I want my thief to steal me away..
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2011 by Laura Claycomb, (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 Louise de Vilmorin (1902 - 1969), "Il vole", written 1939, appears in Fiançailles pour rire, no. 6, Paris, Éd. NRF Gallimard, first published 1939
This text was added to the website: 2011-11-24
Line count: 26
Word count: 174