Four songs of Ronsard

Translations © by Faith J. Cormier

Song Cycle by Darius Milhaud (1892 - 1974)

View original-language texts alone: Quatre Chansons de Ronsard

1. À une fontaine
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Écoute moi, Fontaine vive, 
En qui j'ai rebu si souvent, 
Couché tout plat dessus ta rive, 
Oisif à la fraîcheur du vent, 
Quand l'été ménager moissonne 
Le sein de Cérès dévêtu, 
Et l'aire par compas résonne 
Gémissant sous le blé battu. 
Ainsi toujours puisses-tu être. 
En religion à tous ceux
Qui te boiront ou feront paître
Tes verts rivages à leurs bœufs
Ainsi toujours la lune claire 
Voie à minuit au fond d'un val 
Les Nymphes près de ton repaire 
A mille bonds mener le bal! 
 ...

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by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
1. To a fountain
Language: English 
Listen to me, living fountain,
from whom I oft have drunk,
flat on my belly overlooking your bank, 
lazy in the cool breeze 
while the summer harvests
Ceres' unclad breast 
and the air whimpers 
beneath the beaten wheat. 
So may you always be 
in religion to all those 
who drink from you or who pasture 
their cattle on your green banks. 
So may nymphs 
forever dance
around you 
in the moonlit midnights.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2002 by Faith J. Cormier, (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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Note: this is a translation of the version used by Leguerney and Milhaud.


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 73

Translation © by Faith J. Cormier
2. À Cupidon
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Le jour pousse la nuit
  Et la nuit sombre
Pousse le jour qui luit
  D'une obscure ombre.

L'Automne suit l'Été
  Et l'âpre rage
Des vents n'a point été
  Après l'orage.

Mais la fièvre d'amours
  Qui me tourmente
Demeure en moi toujours
  Et ne s'alente.

Ce n'était pas moi, Dieu,
  Qu'il fallait poindre;
Ta flèche en d'autre lieu
  Se devait joindre.

Poursuis les paresseux
  Et les amuse,
Mais non pas moi, ni ceux
  Qu'aime la Muse...

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Note: A five-stanza version of this poem exists with a different third stanza: 

Mais le mal nonobstant 
D'amour dolente 
Demeure en moi constant 
Et ne s'alente.

by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
2. To Cupid
Language: English 
Day pushes night, 
and dark night
pushes gleaming day
with dark shades.

Autumn follows Summer
and the winds
no longer rage
after the storm.

But the love fever
that torments me
burns in me
forever unabated. 

I'm not the one 
you should have aimed at, god.
Your arrow should have
had another target.

Go after the lazy
and amuse them,
not me or those
who love the Muse.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © by Faith J. Cormier, (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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This text was added to the website:
Line count: 20
Word count: 69

Translation © by Faith J. Cormier
3. Tay toy, babillarde Arondelle
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
    Tay toy, babillarde Arondelle,
 Ou bien, je plumeray ton aile
 Si je t'empongne, ou d'un couteau
 Je te couperay la languette,
 Qui matin sans repos caquette
 Et m'estourdit tout le cerveau.
   Je te preste ma cheminée,
 Pour chanter toute la journée,
 De soir, de nuict, quand tu voudras.
 Mais au matin ne me reveille,
 Et ne m'oste quand je sommeille
 Ma Cassandre d'entre mes bras.

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by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
3. Quiet, chattering swallow
Language: English 
 Quiet, chattering swallow,
 or if I get my hands on you 
 I'll tear the feathers from your wing
 or cut out your tongue. 
 In the morning, your endless cackling
 makes my head turn. 
 
 You can sing all day, 
 all evening, all night in my chimney if you want, 
 but in the morning don't wake me up
 when I'm dozing 
 with my Cassandra in my arms.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2002 by Faith J. Cormier, (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: 

Based on:

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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 11
Word count: 65

Translation © by Faith J. Cormier
4. Dieu vous gard'
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Dieu vous gard', messagers fidèles
Du Printemps, gentes hirondelles,
Huppes, coucous, rossignolets,
Tourtres, et vous oiseaux sauvages
Qui de cent sortes de ramages
Animez les bois verdelets.

Dieu vous gard', belles pâquerettes,
Belles roses, belles fleurettes,
Et vous boutons jadis connus
Du sang d'Ajax et de Narcisse,
Et vous thym, anis et mélisse,
Vous soyez les bien revenus.

Dieu vous gard', troupe diaprée
Des papillons, qui par la prée
Les douces herbes suçotez;
Et vous, nouvel essaim d'abeilles,
Qui les fleurs jaunes et vermeilles
De votre bouche baisotez.

Cent mille fois je resalue
Votre belle et douce venue.
Ô que j'aime cette saison
Et ce doux caquet des rivages,
Au prix des vents et des orages
Qui m'enfermaient en la maison!

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by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
4.
Language: English 
God be with you, faithful messengers
of Spring, swallows, 
hoopoes, cuckoos, little nightingales, 
turtledoves and wild birds 
who make the greenwood 
lively with a hundred sorts of warbles.

God be with you, lovely daisies,
beautiful roses, pretty little flowers,
and you buds, once known 
as the blood of Ajax and Narcissus. 
And you thyme, anise, wild cherry. 
Welcome back. 

God be with you, multi-coloured troop 
of butterflies sucking 
the sweet grasses of the field, 
and you, new swarm of bees 
kissing the yellow 
and red flowers. 

A hundred thousand times I salute
your sweet return. 
Oh, how I love this season
and the sweet cackling on the banks 
after the winds and storms
that have kept me shut in the house!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2002 by Faith J. Cormier, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view

Note: this is a translation of Milhaud's version.


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 121

Translation © by Faith J. Cormier