by
René Chalupt (1885 - 1957)
Sarabande
Language: French (Français)
Les jets d'eau dansent des sarabandes
Sur l'herbe parfumée des boulingrins;
Il y a des rumeurs de soie dans le jardin
Et de mystérieuses présences.
Sur le marbre rose d'une margelle
Trois tourterelles
Se sont posées,
Comme sur tes lèvres trois baisers;
Leurs plumes s'effeuillent dans le bassin.
Les fleurs fraîches des marronniers
Neigent lentement sur tes seins
Et font frissonner ta chair nue,
Car tu es nue
Sous ton manteau
Et c'est pour toi que les jets d'eau
Dansent de sveltes sarabandes,
Que le parc est plein de présences
Et que les tourterelles blanches,
Comme de vivantes guirlandes,
Viennent fleurir au bord de l'eau.
Please note: this text, provided here for educational and research use, is in the public domain in Canada and the U.S., but it may still be copyright in other legal jurisdictions. The LiederNet Archive makes no guarantee that the above text is public domain in your country. Please consult your country's copyright statutes or a qualified IP attorney to verify whether a certain text is in the public domain in your country or if downloading or distributing a copy constitutes fair use. The LiederNet Archive assumes no legal responsibility or liability for the copyright compliance of third parties.
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 (Laura Prichard) , "Sarabande", copyright © 2023, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 105
Sarabande
Language: English after the French (Français)
The jets of water dance sarabandes
Over the fragrant grass of the bowling green;
There are rumors of silk in the garden
And of mysterious spirits.
On the rose-colored marble of the fountain’s edge
Three turtledoves
Have landed
On your lips, like three kisses;
Their plumage falls into the water.
The fresh blossoms of chestnut trees
Drift down slowly like snowflakes on your breast
And send shivers down your naked limbs,
For you are wearing nothing
Under your coat
And it's for you that the jets of water
Dance thin sarabandes,
That the park is full of spirits
And that the white turtledoves,
Like living garlands,
Throng to blossom at the water’s edge.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2023 by Laura Prichard, (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:
This text was added to the website: 2023-10-09
Line count: 20
Word count: 113
