Je m'étais endormi, et je rêvais qu'une caravane exténuée 
traversait un désert, où je la guidais. 
Et qu'un fabuleux mirage surgissait devant nous, 
et que ce mirage était toi-même,
avec les lacs de tes yeux et les vergers de ton corps. 
Et que tu t'élançais vers moi, et que mes compagnons, 
désespérés, se couchaient pour mourir. 
Je viens de prononcer ton nom, afin de recommencer ce rêve... 
Hélas ! on ne voit jamais deux fois le même mirage.

I went to sleep, and I dreamed that a weary caravan 
was crossing a desert, where I was leading it. 
And that a fabulous mirage appeared before us, 
and that this mirage was you yourself, 
with lakes of your eyes and orchards of your body. 
And that you rushed towards me, and that my companions, 
in desperation, lay down to die. 
I have just spoken your name, so as to begin this dream again ... 
Alas! No one sees the same mirage twice.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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:

• a text in French (Français) by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955), "Mirage", appears in Le jardin des caresses, no. 14, Paris, Éd. H. Piazza, first published 1911
  • Go to the text page.

Go to the general single-text view

Translations of titles:
"Le mirage" = "The Mirage"
"Mirage" = "Mirage"

This text was added to the website: 2026-03-04
Line count: 9
Word count: 82

Je ne veux que te meurtrir de caresses,
et je n'en désire aucune.

Je ne veux qu'écouter la mer dans tes mains creuses,
puis mettre tes mains sur mes yeux, comme de la nuit.

Je ne veux que me griser de nostalgies,
en soutenant ton regard.

Je ne veux qu'entendre ta voix,
qui me rappellera les voix des femmes de mon pays.

Je ne veux que caresser sur ton corps
des souvenirs et des regrets.

Et si je baise tes lèvres,
leur suc me sera très amer.

Mais j'ai baisé tes lèvres,
et leur suc m'a enivré.
J'ai caressé ton corps,
et ma main tremblait.
J'ai entendu ta voix,
et les voix des femmes de mon pays
n'était plus qu'une musique barbare.
J'ai soutenu ton regard,
et j'ai baissé les yeux.
J'ai écouté la mer dans tes mains creuses,
et cette océan m'a submergé!

I wish only to bruise you with caresses,
and I want none for myself.

I wish only to listen to the sea in your cupped hands,
then place your hands over my eyes, like night.

I wish only to become drunk with nostalgia,
while bearing your gaze.

I wish only to hear your voice,
which will recall to me the voices of my countrywomen.

I wish only to caress on your body
memories and regrets.

And if I kiss your lips,
I will find their juice very bitter.

But I kissed your lips,
and I found their juice intoxicating.
I caressed your body,
and my hand trembled.
I heard your voice,
and the voices of my countrywomen
were no longer but a barbarian music.
I bore your gaze,
and I lowered my eyes.
I heard the sea in your cupped hands,
and that ocean overwhelmed me!

Text Authorship:

• Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2025 by Grant Hicks, (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:

• a text in French (Français) by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955), "Le vaincu", appears in Le jardin des caresses, no. 110, Paris, Éd. H. Piazza, first published 1911
  • Go to the text page.

Go to the general single-text view

This text was added to the website: 2025-08-15
Line count: 23
Word count: 146

Reste ainsi, penchée sur ton cœur.
Tes paupières sont deux pétales de clématite
Que l’été aurait pâlies,
et je ne vois de tes lèvres qu’une longue framboise.

Reste ainsi. Une mèche de tes cheveux
a glissé sur ton front, comme une hirondelle apprivoisée
se poserait sur un coffret d’ivoire,
et je ne sais si ce poudroiement vermeil est ta joue.

La clématite s’est repliée :
pourquoi m’as-tu regardé ?
L’hirondelle s’est envolée :
pourquoi as-tu refoulé ta mèche ?
La framboise s’est déchirée :
pourquoi m’as-tu souris ?

Stay like that, bent over your heart.
Your pupils are two petals of [blue clematis,]1
and [your mouth is]2 a long raspberry.

Stay like that. A lock of your hair
Has slipped across your forehead, as a tame swallow 
might alight on an ivory box,
and I don't know if this rosy dusting is your cheek.

The clematis has closed up:
why did you look at me?
The swallow has taken wing:
why did you brush back your hair?
The raspberry has burst open:
why did you smile at me?

Text Authorship:

• Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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:

• a text in French (Français) by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955), "Le visage penché", appears in Le jardin des caresses, no. 111, Paris, Éd. H. Piazza, first published 1911
  • Go to the text page.

Go to the general single-text view

View text without footnotes
¹ Aubert: "clematis/ That summer has faded,"
² Aubert: "all I see of your lips is"

This text was added to the website: 2026-03-25
Line count: 13
Word count: 92

Dans le cèdre, des colombes 
se sont posées pour la nuit. 
Longtemps hésitantes, 
elles avaient tournoyé au-dessus 
de l'arbre solitaire. 
Maintenant elles vont s'endormir. 
Comme chaque nuit, au sommet 
de la plus haute branche, 
un rossignol chantera. 
Ainsi je berce souvent ton sommeil 
de paroles d'amour. 
Je crois que le même instinct 
guide les colombes et les jeunes filles 
vers les jardins où chantent les rossignols.

In the cedar, doves
have settled for the night. 
Hesitating for a long while, 
they had circled above
the solitary tree. 
Now they are about to go to sleep. 
As on all nights, at the top 
of the highest branch
a nightingale will sing. 
So do I often beguile your sleep 
with words of love. 
I believe the same instinct 
guides doves and young girls 
towards gardens where nightingales sing.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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:

• a text in French (Français) by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955), "Le sommeil des colombes", appears in Le jardin des caresses, no. 5, Paris, Éd. H. Piazza, first published 1911
  • Go to the text page.

Based on:

• a text in Arabic (العربية) by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist  [text unavailable]
  • Go to the text page.

Go to the general single-text view

This text was added to the website: 2026-02-22
Line count: 14
Word count: 70

Quand, pour me faire ce geste,
tu as passé la main à travers le grillage de ta fenêtre,
toute la vie de mon corps s'est arrêtée. 
Ni la fleur du magnolia,
ni la neige de la montagne, 
ni le marbre, ni le jasmin,
ne sont plus blancs que tes doigts
où tes ongles brillaient comme des flammes.
A mes compagnons qui s'étonnaient
de sentir une odeur délicieuse,
j'ai dit : « C'est le bras de ma bien-aimêe, 
ce sont les roses de ses ongles
qui ont embaumé le carrefour... 
Que la bénédiction de Dieu soit sur cette demeure
où ma bien-aimée est prisonnière ! »
Et mes compagnons s'attristèrent, 
et mon cheval se mit à hennir, 
car l'arôme du bras de ma bien-aimée
lui rappelait le parfum des grandes plaines
qui sont au-delà de la mer.

When, to wave to me,
you passed your hand across the grille of your window,
all the life in my body came to a halt.
Neither the magnolia blossom,
nor the snow on the mountain, 
nor marble, nor jasmine,
is whiter than your fingers 
where your nails shone like flames.
To my companions who were amazed 
to smell a delicious scent,
I said, "It is the arm of my beloved,
it is the roses of her nails 
that have perfumed the crossroad ...
May God's blessing be upon the dwelling 
where my beloved is imprisoned!" 
And my companions were saddened,
and my horse began to whinny,
for the scent of my beloved's arm
reminded him of the fragrance of the great plains
that are beyond the sea.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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:

• a text in French (Français) by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955), "L'adieu", appears in Le jardin des caresses, no. 33, Paris, Éd. H. Piazza, first published 1911
  • Go to the text page.

Go to the general single-text view

This text was added to the website: 2026-03-26
Line count: 20
Word count: 126

L'amour de la femme est l'ombre d'une palme sur le sable.
L'amour de l'homme est le seul simoûn
qui puisse briser cette palme et fixer ainsi son ombre.
Messaouda ! dans la nuit de ton sépulcre
souviens-toi du jardin solitaire
où je t'ai conduite,, un jour.
C'était un jardin entre des murailles si hautes,
que les cimes de ses arbres ne les depassaient point.
C'était un jardin serti dans des murailles blanches,
comme une émeraude cachée dans une fleur de magnolia.
Messaouda ! souviens-toi du matin paisible
où tu t'es courbée sous mon amour,
comme une palme sous le simoûn.
Mais, à force de souffler,
le simoûn recouvre de sable le rameau qu'il a brisé.
Ô ma longue palme, 
que le sable du cimetière soit léger sur ton sépulcre.

A woman's love is the shadow of a palm tree on the sand.
A man's love is the only simoom
that can snap that palm and so pin down its shadow.
Messaouda! in the night of your tomb 
remember the solitary garden 
where I led you, one day!
It was a garden between walls so high
that the crowns of its trees did not overtop them.
It was a garden set within white walls,
like an emerald hidden within a magnolia blossom.
Messaouda! remember the peaceful morning 
when you were bent beneath my love,
like a palm tree beneath the simoom.
But, by dint of blowing,
The simoom covers with sand the branch it has broken.
O my tall palm tree,
May the sand of the cemetery lie light upon your tomb.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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:

• a text in French (Français) by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955), "Le destin", appears in Le jardin des caresses, no. 13, Paris, Éd. H. Piazza, first published 1911
  • Go to the text page.

Go to the general single-text view

Note for line 2, "simoom": a hot, dry, sometimes deadly wind that blows in the Sahara and desert areas of the Near East. Its name comes from an Arabic root meaning "poison."

This text was added to the website: 2026-03-16
Line count: 17
Word count: 132