Douze poèmes d'Emily Dickinson

Song Cycle by Aaron Copland (1900 - 1990)

View original-language texts alone: Twelve Poems of Emily Dickinson

1. Nature, the gentlest mother
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Nature, the gentlest mother
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest or the waywardest, -
Her admonition mild

In forest and the hill
By traveller is heard,
Restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.

How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon, -
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down

Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid prayer
Of the minutest cricket,
The most unworthy flower.

When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky,

With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
1. Nature, mère la plus gentille
Language: French (Français) 
Nature, mère la plus gentille
Impatiente avec aucun enfant
Le plus faible ou le plus rétif
Modérée dans ses reproches

Dans la forêt et la colline
Le voyageur l'entend
Retenant l'écureuil exubérant
Ou l'oiseau trop impétueux.

Comme sa conversation est belle
Un après-midi d'été
Sa demeure, ses proches
Et quand le soleil se couche

Sa voix parmi les allées
Invite à la prière timide
Le plus petit grillon
Et la moindre fleur

Quand tous les enfants dorment
Elle s'éloigne juste le temps
Qu'il faut pour allumer ses lampes
Puis, se penchant depuis le ciel

Avec une affection infinie
Et un soin plus infini
Son doigt d'or sur ses lèvres
Elle demande le silence partout.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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Word count: 114

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2. There came a wind like a bugle
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
There came a wind like a bugle,
It quivered through the grass,
And a green chill upon the heat
So ominous did pass

We barred the windows and the doors
As from an emerald ghost
The doom's electric moccasin
That very instant passed.

On a strange mob of panting trees,
And fences fled away,
And rivers where the houses ran
The living looked that day,

The bell within the steeple wild,
The flying tidings whirled.
How much can come and much can go,
And yet abide the world!

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
2. Alors vint un vent comme un clairon
Language: French (Français) 
Alors vint un vent comme un clairon,
Il frissonna dans l'herbe
Et un froid vert sur la chaleur
Si menaçante est passé.

Nous avons mis la barre à la fenêtre et aux portes
Comme contre un fantôme émeraude
Le mocassin électrique du sort
À l'instant même a frappé.

Sur une étrange foule d'arbres essoufflés
Et des haies enfuies au loin
Et des rivières coulant à la place des maisons
Les vivants jetaient les yeux ce jour-là.

La cloche dans le clocher sauvage
A fait tourbillonner la nouvelle qui vole
Combien tout peut changer et combien peut arriver
Et pourtant le monde demeure.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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3. Why do they shut me out of Heaven?
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Why -- do they shut me out of Heaven?
Did I sing -- too loud?
But -- I can sing a little minor,
Timid as a bird.

Wouldn't the angels try me -- 
just -- once -- more --
Just -- see -- if I troubled them --
But don't -- shut the door!

Oh if I -- were the Gentlemen 
in the White Robes
and they -- were the little Hand -- that knocked --
Could -- I -- forbid?

Why do they shut me out of Heaven?
Did I sing too loud?

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
3. Pourquoi m'ont-ils fermé la porte du ciel
Language: French (Français) 
Pourquoi m'ont-ils fermé la porte du ciel
Ai-je chanté trop fort ?
Mais je peux chanter tout doucement
Timide comme un oiseau.

Les anges ne voudraient-ils pas
Me laisser essayer encore une fois
Juste pour voir si je les dérange ?
Mais ne fermez pas la porte.

Oh si j'étais les messieurs
Dans les robes blanches
Et s'ils étaient la petite main qui frappe,
Pourrais-je refuser ?

Pourquoi m'ont-ils fermé la porte du ciel
Ai-je chanté trop fort ?

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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4. The world feels dusty
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
The world feels dusty,
when we stop to die...
We want the dew then
Honors taste dry...

Flags vex a dying face
But the least fan
stirred by a friend's hand
Cools like the rain

Mine be the ministry
when thy thirst comes...
Dews of thyself to fetch 
and holy balms.

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This version was published many times, including in the Atlantic Monthly (Volume 143, 1929), before the more authoritative versions came out with the more characteristic punctuation. There are also a few changes to the words in the last stanza. See below.

by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
4. Le monde se sent poussiéreux
Language: French (Français) 
Le monde se sent poussiéreux
Quand nous nous arrêtons pour mourir
Nous voulons de la rosée
Les honneurs ont un goût sec.

Les drapeaux ennuient un visage mourant
Mais le moindre éventail
Agité par la main d'un ami
Rafraîchit comme la pluie.

À moi est la tâche
Quand viendra la soif
De chercher pour toi les rosées
Et les baumes sacrés.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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5. Heart, we will forget him
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Heart, we will forget him
You and I, tonight.
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you're lagging,
I may remember him!

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
5. Mon cœur, nous l'oublierons
Language: French (Français) 
Mon cœur, nous l'oublierons
Toi et moi, cette nuit.
Toi, tu oublieras la chaleur qu'il donnait
J'oublierai sa clarté.

Quand tu l'auras fait, je te prie de me le dire
Que je puisse effacer mes pensées.
Vite ! de peur que pendant que tu tardes
Je puisse me le rappeler.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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6. Dear March, come in!
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Dear March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat -
You must have walked -
How out of breath you are!
Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!

I got your letter, and the bird's;
The maples never knew
That you were coming, - I declare,
How red their faces grew!
But, March, forgive me -
And all those hills
You left for me to hue,
There was no purple suitable,
You took it all with you.

Who knocks? that April?
Lock the door!
I will not be pursued!
He stayed away a year, to call
When I am occupied.
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come,
And blame is just as dear as praise
And praise as mere as blame.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
6. Cher Mars, entre!
Language: French (Français) 
Cher Mars, entre !
Comme je suis contente !
Je t'espérais avant.
Pose ton chapeau
Tu as dû marcher
Que tu es essoufflé.
Cher Mars, comment vas-tu ?
Et le reste ?
La nature allait bien quand tu l'as quittée ?
Oh, Mars, viens tout de suite en haut avec moi
J'ai tant à te dire.

J'ai reçu ta lettre et celle de l'oiseau.
Les érables ne savaient pas 
que tu allais venir,
Je dis, comme leur visage a rougi,
Mais, Mars, pardonne-moi.
Et toutes ces collines 
que tu m'as laissées à colorier,
Il n'y avait pas de violet qui allait,
Tu as tout emporté avec toi.

Qui frappe ? c'est Avril ?
Ferme la porte à clé, 
je ne veux pas qu'on me poursuive !
Il est resté loin pendant un an, pour m'appeler 
quand je suis occupée.
Mais les bagatelles semblent si dérisoires
Dès que tu es là,
Et le blâme vaut autant que l'éloge
Et l'éloge aussi peu que le blâme.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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Word count: 156

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7. Sleep is supposed to be
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Sleep is supposed to be,
By souls of sanity,
The shutting of the eye.

Sleep is the station grand
Down which on either hand
The hosts of witness stand!

Morn is supposed to be,
By people of degree,
The breaking of the day.

Morning has not occurred!
That shall aurora be
East of Eternity;

One with the banner gay,
One in the red array, -
That is the break of day.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
7. Le sommeil est supposé être
Language: French (Français) 
Le sommeil est supposé être
Pour les âmes de bon sens
La fermeture de l'œil.

Le sommeil est l'endroit grandiose
Où de chaque côté
Les foules de témoins se tiennent.

Le matin est supposé être
Pour les personnes d'un certain rang
Le point du jour.

La matin n'est pas arrivé !
Que l'aurore soit
À l'est de l'éternité ;

Avec la bannière éclatante,
Dans la parure rouge,
C'est le point du jour.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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8. When they come back
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
When they come back -- if Blossoms do --
I always feel a doubt
If Blossoms can be born again
When once the Art is out --

When they begin, if Robins do,
I always had a fear
I did not tell, it was their last Experiment
Last Year,

When it is May, if May return,
Has nobody a pang
Lest on a Face so beautiful
We might not look again?

If I am there -- One does not know
What Party -- One may be
Tomorrow, but if I am there
I take back all I say --

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
8. Quand elles reviennent, si les fleurs reviennent
Language: French (Français) 
Quand elles reviennent, si les fleurs reviennent
Je ressens toujours un doute
Que les fleurs puissent renaître
Quand leur beauté est finie

Quand ils commencent, si les merles commencent
J'ai toujours eu une crainte
Je n'ai pas dit que c'était leur dernier
Essai l'an dernier

Quand c'est le mois de Mai, si Mai revient
Personne n'a une crainte
Qu'un visage si beau
Nous ne puissions le revoir.

Si je suis là, on ne sait pas
En quelle compagnie, on peut être
Demain, mais si je suis là
Je retire tout ce que j'ai dit.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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9. I felt a funeral in my brain
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.

And when they all were seated
A service like a drum
Kept beating, beating, till I thought
My mind was going numb.

And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead, again.
Then space began to toll

As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.

 ...

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
9. J'ai senti un enterrement dans ma tête
Language: French (Français) 
J'ai senti un enterrement dans ma tête
Et les amis du défunt allaient et venaient
Continuaient à marcher, jusqu'à ce qu'il me semble
Que ma raison s'en allait.

Et quand ils s'étaient tous assis
Un office comme un tambour
Continuer de battre, de battre jusqu'à ce que je pense
Que mon esprit devenait paralysé.

Et puis je les ai entendus soulever une boîte
Et traverser mon âme en grinçant
Avec encore ces mêmes bottes de plomb
Puis l'espace a sonné le glas

Comme si tous les cieux étaient une cloche
Et l'existence n'était qu'une oreille
Et moi et le silence une étrange race
Échouée solitaire ici.

[ ... ]

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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10. I've heard an organ talk sometimes
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
I've heard an organ talk sometimes
In a cathedral aisle
And understood no word it said
Yet held my breath the while...

And risen up and gone away,
A more Bernardine girl
And know not what was done to me
In that old hallowed aisle.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
10. J'ai entendu parfois un orgue parler
Language: French (Français) 
J'ai entendu parfois un orgue parler
Dans l'allée d'une cathédrale
Et je ne comprenais pas un mot de ce qu'il disait
Pourtant j'ai retenu mon souffle pendant

Et je me suis levée et je suis partie
Une fille plus Bernardine
Et j'ignore ce qui m'est arrivé
Dans cette vieille allée consacrée.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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Word count: 51

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11. Going to Heaven!
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Going to Heaven!
I don't know when,
Pray do not ask me how, -
Indeed I'm too astonished
To think of answering you!
Going to Heaven! -
How dim it sounds!
And yet it will be done
As sure as flocks go home at night
Unto the shepherd's arm!

Perhaps you're going too!
Who knows?
If you should get there first
Save just a little place for me
Close to the two I lost!
The smallest "robe" will fit me,
And just a bit of "crown";
For you know we do not mind our dress
When we are going home. 


Going to Heaven! I'm glad I don't believe it
For it would stop my breath,
And I'd like to look a little more
At such a curious earth!
I am glad they did believe it
Whom I have never found
Since the mighty autumn afternoon
I left them in the ground.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
11. Je monte au ciel !
Language: French (Français) 
Je monte au ciel ! 
Je ne sais pas quand
Je vous en prie, ne me demandez pas comment
Car je suis trop étonnée
Pour penser à vous répondre
Je monte au ciel ! 
Comme cela semble vague
Et pourtant ce sera fait
Aussi sûrement que les troupeaux rentrent le soir
Vers l'abri du berger !

Peut-être montez-vous aussi ! 
Qui sait ?
Si vous y arrivez le premier
Gardez-moi une petite place
Près des deux que j'ai perdus.
La moindre robe m'ira
Et juste une petite couronne
Car vous savez qu'on ne fait pas attention à ses habits
Quand on rentre à la maison.

Je suis contente de ne pas y croire
Car cela arrêterait ma respiration
Et j'aimerais regarder un peu plus
Une si curieuse terre.
Je suis contente qu'ils l'ait cru
Ceux que je n'ai jamais trouvés
Depuis ce sacré après-midi d'automne
Où je les ai laissés sous terre.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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12. The chariot
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Because I would not stop for Death --
He kindly stopped for me --
The carriage held but just ourselves --
and Immortality.

We slowly drove -- he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too
For His Civility --

We passed the school, where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
a swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
12. La voiture
Language: French (Français) 
Parce que je n'ai pas voulu m'arrêter pour la mort
Il s'est arrêté gentiment pour moi.
La voiture ne contenait que nous deux
Et l'immortalité.

Nous avancions doucement, il n'est pas pressé
Et j'avais renoncé à
Mon travail, et à mon temps libre aussi
Par courtoisie envers lui.

Nous sommes passés devant l'école où jouaient les enfants
Leurs cours à peine finis
Nous sommes passés devant les champs de blé qui regardaient
Nous sommes passés devant le soleil couchant.

Nous nous sommes arrêtés devant une maison qui semblait
Un renflement de terre
Le toit était à peine visible
La corniche n'était qu'un monticule.

Depuis des siècles ont passé mais chacun
Semble plus court que le jour
Où j'ai supposé la première fois que la tête des chevaux
Étaient tournées vers l'éternité.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Guy Laffaille, (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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Line count: 20
Word count: 131

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