Odelette
Language: French (Français)
J'aurais pu dire mon Amour
Tout haut
Dans le grand jour
Ardent et chaud
Du bel été roux qui l'exalte et l'enivre
Et le dresse debout avec un rire
À tout écho!
J'aurais pu dire:
Mon amour est heureux, voyez
Son manteau de pourpre qui traîne
Jusqu'à ses pieds!
Ses mains sont pleines
De roses qu'il effeuille et qui parfume l'air;
Le ciel est clair
Sur sa maison de marbre tiède
Et blanc et veiné comme une chair
Douce aux lèvres . . .
Mais non,
Je l'ai vêtu de bure et de laine;
Son manteau traîne
Sur ses talons;
Il passe en souriant à peine
Et quand il chante c'est si bas
Que l'on ne se retourne pas
Pour cueillir sa chanson éclose
Dans le soir qu'elle a parfumé;
Il n'a ni jardin ni maison,
Et il fait semblant d'être pauvre
Pour mieux cacher qu'il est aimé.
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 (Meredith Achey) , "Little ode", copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Geoffrey Wieting
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 29
Word count: 148
Little ode
Language: English after the French (Français)
I could have proclaimed my Love
Right out loud
In the great day
Ardent and hot
Of the beautiful red-headed summer that exalts it and intoxicates it
And holds it up with a laugh
Echoing everywhere!
I could have said:
My love is happy, see
Its purple coat that falls
All the way to its feet!
Its hands are full
Of roses which bloom and perfume the air;
The sky is clear
Over its warm marble house
And white and veined like flesh
Sweet to the lips...
But no,
I dressed it in homespun and wool;
Its coat drags
Over its heels;
It passes, barely smiling,
And when it sings, it's so quiet
That no one turns
To gather its blooming song
In the evening, which [the song] perfumes;
It has neither a garden nor a home,
And it pretends to be poor
Better to hide that it is loved.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2011 by Meredith Achey, (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: 2011-06-20
Line count: 29
Word count: 150
