by Maurice Maeterlinck (1862 - 1949)
Translation © by Sophie Huet

Ô serre au milieu des forêts !
Language: French (Français) 
Available translation(s): ENG ENG
Ô serre au milieu des forêts !
Et vos portes à jamais closes !
Et tout ce qu'il y a sous votre coupole !
Et dans mon âme en vos analogies !

Les pensées d'une princesse qui a faim,
L'ennui d'un matelot dans le désert,
Une musique de cuivreaux fenêtres des incurables.
Allez aux angles les plus tièdes !
On dirait une femme évanouie un jour de moisson :
Il y a des postillons dans la cour de l'hospice ;
Au loin, passe un chasseur d'élans, devenu infirmier.

Examinez au clair de lune !
(Oh! rien n'y est à sa place !)
On dirait une folle devant les juges,
Un navire de guerre à pleines voiles sur un canal,
Des oiseaux de nuit sur des lys,
Un glas vers midi,
(Là-bàs sous ces cloches !)
Une étape de malades dans la prairie,
Une odeur d'éther un jour de soleil.

Mon Dieu ! Mon Dieu ! Quand aurons-nous la pluie,
Et la neige et le vent dans la serre !

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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 or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Barbara Miller) , "Hothouse", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (Sophie Huet) , "Hothouse", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2017-05-01 14:55:06
Line count: 22
Word count: 169

Hothouse
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
O hothouse in the forest!
And your never-closed doors!
And all there is beneath your glass dome!
And analogies in my soul! 

The thoughts of a starving princess,
The boredom of a sailor marooned in the desert,
Brassy music at hospital windows.
Go to the shallowest angles! 
It's like a woman who faints on harvest day,
There are postillons in the hospital's yard,
A hunter turned nurse passes in the distance

Examined in the moonlight. 
Oh! nothing is in its place. 
It's like a crazy woman in front of the judges,
A warship with full sails
on a canal of nightbirds on lilies
A knell at noon
(There, under those bells!) 
A series of invalids in the prairie
An ether smell, a sunny day

My God! My God! When will it rain
and snow and blow wind in the hothouse!

Authorship

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2009 by Sophie Huet, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.

    Sophie Huet.  Contact: sophiehuet (AT) gmail (DOT) com

    If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact:

Based on

 

Text added to the website: 2009-04-15 00:00:00
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:03:11
Line count: 22
Word count: 140