Je dors, et mon coeur veille
Language: French (Français) after the French (Français)
Je dors, et mon cœur veille :
j'entends la voix de mon bien-aimé qui frappe à ma porte :
Ouvrez-moi, ma sœur, mon amie, ma colombe,
vous qui êtes sans tache ;
parce que ma tête est pleine de rosée,
et mes cheveux des gouttes d’eau qui sont tombées pendant la nuit.
Mon bien-aimé a passé sa main par l’ouverture de la porte,
et mes entrailles se sont émues au bruit qu'il a fait ;
Je me suis levé pour ouvrir à mon bien-aimé.
J'ai ouvert à mon bien-aimé ;
mais il s’en était déjà allé, et il avait passé ailleurs.
Mon âme s’était comme fondue au son de sa voix :
je l'ai cherché, et ne l'ai point trouvé ;
je l'ai appelée, il ne m'a point répondu.
Les gardes qui font le tour de la ville m’ont rencontrée :
ils m’ont frappée et blessée.
Ceux qui gardent les murailles m’ont ôté mon manteau.
Je vous conjure, filles de Jérusalem,
si vous trouvez mon bien-aimé,
de lui dire que je languis d’amour.
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Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in Latin, [adaptation] by Roland de Lassus.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Peter Low) , "I sleep, but my heart is awake", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Text added to the website: 2017-09-06.
Last modified: 2017-09-06 16:04:32
Line count: 20
Word count: 173
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- Emily Ezust
I sleep, but my heart is awake
Language: English after the French (Français)
I sleep, but my heart is awake:
I hear the voice of my beloved who is knocking on my door:
“Open it for me, my sister, my friend, my dove,
my flawless one,
for my head is drenched with dew,
my hair is full of the dampness of the night.”
My beloved passed his hand through the gap in the door,
and I was moved in my guts hearing the sound he made.
I rose to open for my beloved.
I opened the door;
but he had already left, he had gone elsewhere.
My soul had melted, as it were, at the sound of his voice.
I sought him and had no success,
I called him and got no answer.
The watchmen that patrol the city met me.
They struck me and wounded me.
The guardians of the wall took away my cloak.
I beg you, daughters of Jerusalem,
if you find my beloved,
tell him that I am languishing with love.
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- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2017 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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Text added to the website: 2017-09-12.
Last modified: 2017-09-12 16:42:05
Line count: 20
Word count: 162