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Las, je me plain de mille et mille et mille Souspirs, qu'en vain des flancz je vais tirant, Heureusement mon plaisir martirant Au fond d'une eau qui de mes pleurs distille. Puis je me plain d'un portraict inutile, Ombre du vray que je suis adorant, Et de ces yeulx qui me vont devorant, Le cuoeur bruslé d'une flamme gentille. Mais parsus tout je me plain d'un penser, Qui trop souvent dans mon cuoeur faict passer Le souvenir d'une beaulté cruelle, Et d'un regret qui me pallist si blanc, Que je n'ay plus en mes veines de sang, Aux nerfz de force, en mes oz de moëlle.
F. Regnard sets stanza 1
About the headline (FAQ)
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 Anthoine de Bertrand (1540? - 1581?), "Las, je me plain de mille et mille et mille", 1576, published 1578, first performed 1576 [ vocal quartet a cappella ], from Les Amours de Pierre de Ronsard à 4 parties, Livre 1, no. 12 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Marc-Antoine Muret (1526 - 1585), "Las, je me plain de mille et mille" [sung text checked 1 time]
- by François Regnard (c1530 - c1600), "Las, je me plain de mille et mille et mille", stanza 1 [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (David Wyatt) , "Alas, I weep with thousand upon thousand sighs", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2010-03-23
Line count: 14
Word count: 106
Alas, I weep with thousand upon thousand upon thousand Sighs, drawing them from my breast in vain Torturing my pleasure pleasantly At the bottom of a pool made of my own tears. Then I weep over this useless portrait, A mere shadow of the true lady I'm in love with And of those eyes which devour me, While my heart burns with a gentle flame. But above all I weep for a thought Which too often makes pass through my heart The memory of her cruel beauty And of a regret which leaves me white as a sheet As if I had no blood left in my veins, No strength in my nerves, no marrow in by bones.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2012 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
This text was added to the website: 2012-06-23
Line count: 14
Word count: 118