The LiederNet Archive
WARNING. Not all the material on this website is in the public domain.
It is illegal to copy and distribute our copyright-protected material without permission.
For more information, contact us at the following address:
licenses (AT) lieder (DOT) net

Le palais ruiné

Language: French (Français) after the Chinese (中文)

Le torrent bondit et gronde,
le vent hurle dans les pins,
les rats fuient à mon approche
et vont se cacher sous les vieilles tuilles.
Quel monarque, jadis, fit bâtir ce palais
dont ne subsistent que des ruines
au flanc d'une montagne abrupte?
Des flammes bleuâtres courent au ras du sol.
On perçoit des gémissements, des râles.
Ces Dix Mille voix de la nature forment un sauvage concert
qui ajoute au tragique de l'automne.
Le maître de ce palais avait de belles danseuses,
qui sont aujourd'hui de la poussière froide.
Il avait des chars, des guerriers.
De tout ce faste, de toute cette gloire, que reste-t-il?
Un cheval de marbre, qui gît dans l'herbe.
Mon immense tristesse, je voudrais l'épancher dans un poème durable,
mais je pleure, et mon pinceau tremble.


Translation(s): ENG

List of language codes

Submitted by Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

Authorship


Based on

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 or adaptations:

  • Also set in English, a translation by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist FRE by Armande de Polignac.

Text added to the website: 2008-02-19.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:37
Line count: 18
Word count: 131

Gentle Reminder
This website began in 1995 as a personal project, and I have been working on it full-time without a salary since 2008. Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation. Your gift is greatly appreciated.
     - Emily Ezust

The ruined palace

Language: English after the French (Français)

How wildly foams the torrent,
the wind howls in the pines.
The rats flying from my presence
run into their holes under stony caverns.
What proud monarch of old dwelt in this palace proud,
where but remain some falling ruins
that on the mountainside are crumbling?
And fairylike fire flickers in ghostly flame.
Hear you not the moaning, the cries of anguish?
How savagely in nature's concert
the Ten Thousandfold voices wail.
How they sorrow more dismally than autumn.
The master who once dwelt here had dancers many and youthful,
and now they are gone and but as whitened ashes.
Where are now his war chariots fleet?
Of all this glory, of all this royal splendour, what does remain?
But one marble stallion, that lies mid ruins.
All my grief and my melancholy would I could render with the words of a poet.
But my heart fails and my paintbrush trembles.


Submitted by Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

Authorship


Based on
Based on

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


Text added to the website: 2008-02-19.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:37
Line count: 19
Word count: 151