by
Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
O doux parler dont les mots doucereux
Language: French (Français)
O doux parler dont les mots doucereux
Sont engrauez au fond de ma memoire :
O front, d’Amour le Trofee & la gloire,
O doux souris, O baisers sauoureux :
O cheueux d’or, O coutaux plantureux,
De lis, d’œïllets, de porfyre, & d’yuoire :
O feux iumeaux d’où le Ciel me fit boire
A si longs traits le venin amoureux :
O dents, plustost blanches perles encloses,
Léures, rubis, entre-rangez de roses,
O voix qui peux adoucir vn Lion,
Dont le doux chant l’oreille me vient poindre :
O corps parfait, de tes beautez la moindre
Merite seule vn siege d’Ilion.
About the headline (FAQ)
Modernized version:
Ô doux parler dont les mots doucereux
Sont engravés au fond de ma mémoire :
Ô front, d’Amour le Trophée et la gloire,
Ô doux souris, ô baisers savoureux :
Ô cheveux d’or, ô coteaux plantureux,
De lis, d’œillets, de porphyre, et d’ivoire :
Ô feux jumeaux d’où le Ciel me fit boire
À si longs traits le venin amoureux :
Ô dents, plutôt blanches perles encloses,
Lèvres, rubis, entrerangés de roses,
Ô voix qui peux adoucir un Lion,
Dont le doux chant l’oreille me vient poindre :
Ô corps parfait, de tes beautés la moindre
Mérite seule un siège d’Ilion.
Text 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 (David Wyatt) , copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2014-08-30
Line count: 14
Word count: 96
O sweet speech whose soft words
Language: English after the French (Français)
O sweet speech whose soft words
Are engraved deep in my memory;
O brow, the trophy and glory of Love;
O sweet smile, and sweet-tasting kisses;
O golden hair, o bounteous hills
Of lilies and pinks, of porphyry and ivory;
O twin fires from which Heaven made me drink
Such long draughts of love’s poison;
O teeth, or rather a row of white pearls.
Rubies for lips, interspersed with roses,
O voice which could tame a lion,
Whose sweet song has just come to my ear;
O perfect form, the least of your beauties
Alone would justify the siege of Troy.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2019 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:
This text was added to the website: 2019-10-30
Line count: 14
Word count: 101
