Language: French (Français)
Mon coeur, tremblant des lendemains,
Est comme un oiseau dans tes mains
Qui s'effarouche et qui frissonne.
Il est si timide qu'il faut
Ne lui parler que pas trop haut
Pour que sans crainte il s'abandonne.
Un mot suffit à le navrer,
Un regard en lui fait vibrer
Une inexprimable amertume.
Et ton haleine seulement,
Quand tu lui parles doucement,
Le fait trembler comme une plume.
Il t'environne ; il est partout.
Il voltige autour de ton cou,
Il palpite autour de ta robe,
Mais si furtif, si passager,
Et si subtil et si léger,
Qu'à toute atteinte il se dérobe.
Et quand tu le ferais souffrir
Jusqu'à saigner, jusqu'à mourir,
Tu pourrais en garder le doute,
Et de sa peine ne savoir
Qu'une larme tombée un soir
Sur ton gant taché d'une goutte.
List of language codes
Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]
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 or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Peter Low) , "Viole", copyright © 2018, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Text added to the website: 2009-07-07.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:03:18
Line count: 24
Word count: 134
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- Emily Ezust
Language: English after the French (Français)
My heart, nervous about the future,
is like a bird held in your hands
frightened and quivering.
It is so timid that you must not
speak to it except very softly
so that it can relax without fear.
One word is enough to distress it,
one glance sets in vibration
an inexpressible bitterness.
And your breathing alone,
when you speak to it gently,
makes it tremble like a feather.
It surrounds you, it is everywhere.
It flutters about your neck,
it quivers about your dress,
but so furtively, so fleetingly,
so subtly and so lightly
that it eludes all capture.
And if you caused it to suffer
to the point of bleeding, or dying,
you could still be unsure about that
and know nothing of its pain
except for a teardrop that fell one evening,
onto your glove, and left a spot.
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- 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.
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Text added to the website: 2018-01-22.
Last modified: 2018-01-22 17:57:33
Line count: 24
Word count: 142