I am not at all accustomed | I am not at all accustomed, Muses

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by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)

Translation © by David Wyatt

Je ne suis point, Muses, accoustumé

Language: French (Français)

Our translations: CHI ENG

Je ne suis point, Muses, accoustumé 
Voir vostre bal sous la tarde serée ; 
Je n’ay point beu dedans l’onde sacrée, 
Fille du pied du cheval emplumé. 

De tes beaux rais chastement allumé, 
Je fu poëte ; et si ma voix recrée, 
Et si ma lyre aucunement agrée, 
Ton œil en soit, non Parnasse, estimé. 

Certes, le Ciel te devoit à la France, 
Quand le Thuscan et Sorgue, et sa Florence 
Et son laurier engrava dans les Cieux. 

Ore trop tard, beauté plus que divine, 
Tu vois nostre âge, helas ! qui n’est pas digne 
Tant seulement de parler de tes yeux.

Available sung texts: (what is this?)

• G. Boni

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Text Authorship:

by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585), no title [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]

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

by Guillaume Boni (c1530 - c1594), "Je ne suis point", published 1607 [ vocal quartet ], from Sonnets de Pierre de Ronsard mis en musique à 4 parties, II, no. 1, Paris, Pierre Ballard [sung text checked 1 time]

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

CHI Chinese (中文) [singable] (Dr Huaixing Wang) , "我不习惯", copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
ENG English (David Wyatt) , "I am not at all accustomed", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this page: David Wyatt

This text was added to the website: 2015-02-26
Line count: 14
Word count: 99

I am not at all accustomed

Language: English after the French (Français)

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I am not at all accustomed, Muses,
To watch your dance in the late evening;
I have not drunk from the sacred waters,
Springing from the foot of the winged horse.

Chastely aroused by your fair eyes, [my love],
I became a poet; and if my voice entertains
And my lyre harmonises a little,
Your eyes, not Parnassus, deserve the praise.

Surely heaven owed France your presence,
Since the Tuscan [Petrarch] had engraved in the heavens
The Sorgue, his Florence, and his laurels.

Yet too late, more-than-divine beauty,
You see ou rage which, alas, is not worthy
Even just to speak of your eyes.

Translator's note: The Sorgue is a river near Avignon, where Petrarch spent his youth, returning in his adult years; the laurels are those of a poet laureate, but also a reference to his beloved Laura.

Text Authorship:

Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2015 by David Wyatt, (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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Based on:

a text in French (Français) by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585), no title
- Go to the text page.

This text was added to the website: 2015-02-26
Line count: 14
Word count: 104