English translations of Quatre mélodies, opus 22
by Charles Koechlin (1867 - 1950)
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Nous sommes les Ingénues Aux bandeaux plats, à l'œil bleu, Qui vivons, presque inconnues, Dans les romans qu'on lit peu. Nous allons entrelacées, Et le jour n'est pas plus pur Que le fond de nos pensées, Et nos rêves sont d'azur ; Et nous courons par les près, Et rions et babillons Des aubes jusqu'aux vesprées, Et chassons aux papillons ; Et des chapeaux de bergères Défendent notre fraîcheur, Et nos robes — si légères — Sont d'une extrême blancheur ; Les Richelieux, les Caussades Et les chevaliers Faublas Nous prodiguent les œillades, Les saluts et les « hélas ! » Mais en vain, et leurs mimiques Se viennent casser le nez Devant les plis ironiques De nos jupons détournées ; Et notre candeur se raille Des imaginations De ces près de muraille, Bien que parfois nous sentions Battre nos cœurs sous nos mantes À des pensers clandestins. En nous sachant les amantes Futures des libertins.
Text Authorship:
- by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), "La chanson des Ingénues", appears in Poèmes saturniens, in 4. Caprices, no. 3, Paris, Alphonse Lemerre, first published 1866
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We are the naïve girls with flat headbands and blue eyes who live almost unnoticed in novels that are seldom read. We walk arm in arm together; daylight is not more pure than our innermost thoughts; and our dreams are of azure skies. We run across the meadows, we giggle and prattle from dawn till dusk, and we chase butterflies. Our shepherdess hats protect our freshness, and our dresses – so flimsy – are extremely white. Priests like Richelieu or Caussade, or knights like Faublas, are lavish with winking and greeting and sighs of “Alas!”, but in vain – their gestures draw a total blank when faced with the ironic pleats of our skirts as we turn away. Our artlessness mocks the imaginings of those sneaky men… although sometimes we feel our hearts beating under our cloaks in response to secret thoughts, and know that we are the future mistresses of libertines.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2019 by Peter Low, (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 Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), "La chanson des Ingénues", appears in Poèmes saturniens, in 4. Caprices, no. 3, Paris, Alphonse Lemerre, first published 1866
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Translations of titles
"Chanson des ingénues" = "Song of the Ingénues"
"La chanson des Ingénues" = "The Song of the Ingénues"
This text was added to the website: 2019-08-23
Line count: 32
Word count: 152
Novembre approche, -- et c'est le mois charmant Où, devinant ton âme à ton sourire, Je me suis pris à t'aimer vaguement, Sans rien dire. Novembre approche, -- ah! nous étions enfants, Mais notre amour fut beau comme un poème, -- Comme l'on fait des rêves triomphants, Lorsqu'on aime! -- Novembre approche, -- assis au coin du feu, Malade et seul, j'ai songé tout à l'heure A cet hiver où je croyais en Dieu, Et je pleure. Novembre approche, -- et c'est le mois béni Où tous les morts ont des fleurs sur leur pierre, Et moi je porte à mon rêve fini Sa prière.
Text Authorship:
- by Paul Bourget (1852 - 1935), "Præterita", appears in La vie inquiète, in 1. Au bord de la mer
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Koechlin: "malade et seul, assis au coin du feu"November is approaching, and it's the charming month When, divining your soul in your smile, I vaguely decided to love you Without saying anything . . . November is approaching, ah! we were children, But our love was as beautiful as a poem. Since one has triumphant dreams When one loves! November is approaching. Sick and alone, sitting beside the fire, I was reminded a little earlier Of that winter when I believed in God, And I weep. November is approaching, And it's the blessed month When all the dead have flowers on their gravestones. And I, I carry to my dead dream Its prayer.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2008 by Sharon Krebs, (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:
- a text in French (Français) by Paul Bourget (1852 - 1935), "Præterita", appears in La vie inquiète, in 1. Au bord de la mer
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website: 2008-09-03
Line count: 16
Word count: 105
Je fais souvent ce rêve étrange et pénétrant D'une femme inconnue, et que j'aime, et qui m'aime, Et qui n'est, chaque fois, ni tout à fait la même Ni tout à fait une autre, et m'aime et me comprend. Car elle me comprend, et mon cœur, transparent Pour elle seule, hélas ! cesse d'être un problème Pour elle seule, et les moiteurs de mon front blême, Elle seule les sait rafraîchir, en pleurant. Est-elle brune, blonde ou rousse ? — Je l'ignore. Son nom ? Je me souviens qu'il est doux et sonore Comme ceux des aimés que la Vie exila. Son regard est pareil au regard des statues, Et, pour sa voix, lointaine, et calme, et grave, elle a L'inflexion des voix chères qui se sont tues.
Text Authorship:
- by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), "Mon rêve familier", appears in Poèmes saturniens, in 1. Melancholia, no. 6, Paris, Alphonse Lemerre, first published 1866
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I often have this strange, engrossing dream of an unknown woman, whom I love and who loves me, and who, each time, is never quite the same nor completely another, and who loves and understands. For she understands me; my heart, an open book to her alone (alas), is no longer a problem, at least not to her; and when my pale brow is clammy she alone knows how to refresh it, with her tears. Is she brunette, blonde or redheaded? I don't know. Her name? I recall that it's sweet and sonorous like the names of lovers whom Life sent into exile. Her gaze is like the gaze of a statue, and her voice - her distant, calm deep voice - has the inflection of beloved voices that have fallen silent.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2000 by Peter Low, (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:
- a text in French (Français) by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), "Mon rêve familier", appears in Poèmes saturniens, in 1. Melancholia, no. 6, Paris, Alphonse Lemerre, first published 1866
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 131
Il pleure dans mon cœur Comme il pleut sur la ville ; Quelle est cette langueur Qui pénètre mon cœur ? Ô bruit doux de la pluie, Par terre et sur les toits ! Pour un cœur qui s'ennuie, Ô le chant de la pluie ! Il pleure sans raison Dans ce cœur qui s'écœure. Quoi ! nulle trahison ? ... Ce deuil est sans raison. C'est bien la pire peine, De ne savoir pourquoi... Sans amour et sans haine Mon cœur a tant de peine !
Text Authorship:
- by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Romances sans paroles, in Ariettes oubliées, no. 3, Sens, Typographie de Maurice L'Hermite, first published 1874
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There is weeping in my heart like the rain falling on the town. What is this languor that pervades my heart? Oh the patter of the rain on the ground and the roofs! For a heart growing weary oh the song of the rain! There is weeping without cause in this disheartened heart. What! No betrayal? There's no reason for this grief. Truly the worst pain is not knowing why, without love or hatred, my heart feels so much pain.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2000 by Peter Low, (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:
- a text in French (Français) by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Romances sans paroles, in Ariettes oubliées, no. 3, Sens, Typographie de Maurice L'Hermite, first published 1874
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 81