Three songs , opus 6

On my flute, tipped with jade,
I sang a song to mortals; 
but the mortals did not understand.

Then I lifted my flute to the heavens, 
and I sang my song to the Sages.

The Sages rejoiced together, 
they danced on the glistening clouds.

And now mortals understand me, 
when I sing to the sound 
of my flute tipped with jade.

Sway to and fro in the twilight gray,
  This is the ferry for Shadowtown;
It only sails at the end of the day,
  Just as the darkness closes down.

Rest, little head, on my shoulder, now;
  A sleepy kiss is the only fare,
Drifting away from the world we go,
  Baby and I in the rocking chair.

See, where the fire-logs glow and spark,
  Glitter the lights of the Shadowland;
The raining drops on the window -- hark!
  Are the ripples lapping upon its strand.

There, where the mirror is glancing dim,
  A lake lies shimmering, cool and still;
Blossoms are waving above its brim --
  Those over there on the window-sill.

Rock slow, more slow, in the dusky light;
  Silently lower the anchor down.
Dear little passenger say, "Good night," 
  We've reached the harbor of Shadowtown.

Adieu soulas, tout plaisir et liesse
Mon pauvre cœur si vit en grand tristesse,
Pour les regrets que j'ay mon amy:
Helas! Il ma failly. 

Je m'en iray lassus au verd bocaige
La je feray fonder un hermitage,
Ou je vivray en doucer et soulay
Et tout pout mon amy!