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Sleepless Nights

Word count: 235

Song Cycle by Claude Achille Debussy (1862 - 1918)

Original language: Nuits blanches

1. Endless night

Language: English after the French (Français)

Authorship

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2011 by T. P. (Peter) Perrin, (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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Endless night.
Desolate gloom of the waiting hours.
Shattered heart,
fevered blood drumming her name's lovely syllables.
Let her come, the too-much-wanted;
let her come, the too-much-loved,
and wrap me in her odor of early blooms.
May my lips bite the fruit of her mouth
till the taste of her soul is theirs.
Have I shed tears in vain,
have I called out in vain,
to all that deserts me?
Desolate gloom,
endless night.


IMPORTANT NOTE: The material directly above is protected by copyright and appears here by special permission. If you wish to copy it and distribute it, you must obtain permission or you will be breaking the law. Once you have permission, you must give credit to the author and display the copyright symbol ©. Copyright infringement is a criminal offense under international law.

2. When she first appeared

Language: English after the French (Français)

Authorship

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2011 by T. P. (Peter) Perrin, (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.

    Contact:

    licenses (AT) lieder (DOT) net
    (licenses at lieder dot net)



Based on

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When she first appeared I felt
deceit was caught in the folds of her skirt;
her large eyes glowed with falsehood;
and in her voice's music sounded
something remote, inhuman.
None but sweet words I know so well,
but which, when I absorb them, are harsh and wounding.
What then has dulled her glance?
What then has faded her mouth's redness?
What is the source of the cherished weariness
that seems to have burned out her body
like a flower too much loved by the sun?
Oh, to torment one by one the channels of her loved body!
To wreck it, devour it, to bury her flesh
in my flesh, know the bitter joy
of no chance of forgiveness.
Soon her hands, more delicate than flowers,
will cover my eyes and weave oblivion's veil . . .
Then my blood will rekindle, my heart's red wounds
will bleed, and my blood rise up
to drown her deceit
and all my sorrow.


IMPORTANT NOTE: The material directly above is protected by copyright and appears here by special permission. If you wish to copy it and distribute it, you must obtain permission or you will be breaking the law. Once you have permission, you must give credit to the author and display the copyright symbol ©. Copyright infringement is a criminal offense under international law.

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