Ô Versailles, par cette après‑midi fanée
Language: French (Français)
Available translation(s): ENG
Ô Versailles, par cette après-midi fanée,
Pourquoi ton souvenir m'obsède-t-il ainsi?
Les ardeurs de l'été s'éloignent, et voici
Que s'incline vers nous la saison surannée.
Je veux revoir au long d'une calme journée
Tes eaux glauques que jonche un feuillage roussi,
Et respirer encore, un soir d'or adouci,
Ta beauté plus touchante au déclin de l'année.
Voici tes ifs en cône et tes tritons joufflus,
Tes jardins composés où Louis ne vient plus
Et ta pompe arborant les plumes et les casques.
Comme un grand lys tu meurs, noble et triste, sans bruit;
Et ton onde épuisée au bord moisi des vasques
S'écoule, douce ainsi qu'un sanglot dans la nuit.
N. Boulanger sets lines 1-8, 12-14
About the headline (FAQ)
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 Nadia Boulanger (1887 - 1979), "Versailles", 1906, first performed 1906, lines 1-8,12-14 [ high voice and piano ] [sung text checked 1 time]
- by René Chansarel (1864 - 1945), "Versailles", published 1921 [ medium voice and piano ], from Douze poëmes chantés, no. 6, Éd. E. Demets (Max Eschig) [sung text not yet checked]
- by Georges Adolphe Hüe (1858 - 1948), "La saison surannée", published 1920 [ medium voice and piano ], from Versailles, no. 1, Éd. Heugel [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Peter Low) , copyright © 2018, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2007-10-10
Line count: 14
Word count: 110
Oh Versailles, on this pale afternoon
Language: English  after the French (Français)
Oh Versailles, on this pale afternoon,
why does your memory obsess me so?
The heat of summer is withdrawing, and now
the faded season is bowing towards us.
I'd like to see again, for a long calm day,
your blue-green pools strewn with russet leaves,
and again breathe in, on an evening of soft gold,
your beauty which is more poignant as the year declines.
Here are your cone-shaped yews, your chubby sculpted tritons,
your orderly gardens where King Louis no longer comes
and your pomp, with its displays of feathers and helmets.
Like a great lily you die, nobly, sadly, without noise;
and your waters, not lapping the basins' mouldy edges,
flow away, as soft as a sob in the night.
About the headline (FAQ)
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2018 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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2018-01-22
Line count: 14
Word count: 122