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Le tombeau des Naïades

Language: French (Français)

Le long du bois couvert de givre, je marchais;
Mes cheveux devant ma bouche
Se fleurissaient de petits glaçons,
Et mes sandales étaient lourdes
De neige fangeuse et tassée.

Il me dit: "Que cherches-tu?"
Je suis la trace du satyre.
Ses petits pas fourchus alternent
Comme des trous dans un manteau blanc.
Il me dit: "Les satyres sont morts.

"Les satyres et les nymphes aussi.
Depuis trente ans, il n'a pas fait un hiver aussi terrible.
La trace que tu vois est celle d'un bouc.
Mais restons ici, où est leur tombeau."

Et avec le fer de sa houe il cassa la glace
De la source ou jadis riaient les naïades.
Il prenait de grands morceaux froids,
Et les soulevant vers le ciel pâle,
Il regardait au travers.


Translation(s): ENG GER GER ITA

List of language codes

Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Authorship


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Peter Low) , title 1: "The tomb of the water-nymphs", copyright © 2000, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Nele Gramß) , title 1: "Das Grab der Nymphen", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , title 1: "La tomba delle naiadi", copyright © 2005, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , title 1: "Das Grab der Quellnymphen", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.

Last modified: 2017-05-05 22:47:48
Line count: 19
Word count: 128

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The tomb of the water‑nymphs

Language: English after the French (Français)

 I was walking along in the frost-covered woods;
 in front of my mouth
 my hair blossomed in tiny icicles,
 and my sandals were heavy 
 with muddy caked snow.
 
 He asked: "What are you looking for?"
 "I'm following the tracks of the satyr -
 his little cloven hoofprints alternate 
 like holes in a white cloak."
 He said: "The satyrs are dead.
 
 "The satyrs are dead, and the nymphs too.
 In thirty years there has not been such a terrible winter.  
 That's the trail of a he-goat.  
 But let's pause here, where their tomb is."
 
 With his hoe he broke the ice 
 of the spring where the water-nymphs used to laugh.
 There he was, picking up large cold slabs of ice,
 lifting them toward the pale sky,
 and peering through them.


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Authorship

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2000 by Peter Low, (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

 

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.

Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:39
Line count: 19
Word count: 130