English translations of Dix Mélodies pour chant et piano, opus 12

by Mathieu Crickboom (1871 - 1947)

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1. Les deux cortèges
 (Sung text)
by Mathieu Crickboom (1871 - 1947), "Les deux cortèges", op. 12 (Dix Mélodies pour chant et piano) no. 1 (1911) [ voice and piano ]
Language: French (Français) 
Deux cortèges se sont rencontrés à l’église.
L’un est morne : — il conduit le cercueil d’un enfant ;
Une femme le suit, presque folle, étouffant
Dans sa poitrine en feu le sanglot qui la brise.

L’autre, c’est un baptême ! — au bras qui le défend
Un nourrisson gazouille une note indécise ;
Sa mère, lui tendant le doux sein qu’il épuise,
L’embrasse tout entier d’un regard triomphant !

On baptise, on absout, et le temple se vide.
Les deux femmes, alors, se croisant sous l’abside,
Échangent un coup d’œil aussitôt détourné ;

Et — merveilleux retour qu’inspire la prière —
La jeune mère pleure en regardant la bière,
La femme qui pleurait sourit au nouveau-né !

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Confirmed with Œuvres poétiques de Joséphin Soulary, Alphonse Lemerre, éditeur, no date, page 177 (first part).


by Joséphin Soulary (1815 - 1891)
1. The two processions
Language: English 
Two processions meet at the church.
One is glum - it brings the coffin of a child.
Behind it walks a woman, almost crazy, stifling
in her burning breast the tears that rack her.
 
The other is a baptism. A baby emits a vague
gurgling noise at the arms that protect him;
the mother, giving him the breast that he eagerly sucks,
embraces him totally with a triumphant gaze!
 
The baptism is done, the absolution too, the church empties.
The two women, then, meeting in the apse,
exchange glances that are immediately diverted,
 
and (a marvellous exchange inspired by prayer)
the young mother weeps at the sight of the bier,
and the woman who wept smiles at the baby!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2021 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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This text was added to the website: 2021-11-24
Line count: 14
Word count: 118

Translation © by Peter Low
2. Solitude
 (Sung text)
by Mathieu Crickboom (1871 - 1947), "Solitude", op. 12 (Dix Mélodies pour chant et piano) no. 2 (1908) [ voice and piano ]
Language: French (Français) 
A quoi donc penses-tu, ô pauvre inconsolé
Dont la vie est si morne et le destin si triste?
Pourquoi donc t’attendrir avec un Cœur d’artiste
Devant l’aube naissante et l’océan voilé?
 
Tu contemples la mer où le soleil se lève
Et, le chant des marins enivrant ton cerveau,
Il te semble voguer vers un pays nouveau
Où tout a la douceur et la beauté du rêve.

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by Víctor Orban (1868 - 1946)
2. Solitude
Language: English 
What are you thinking about, poor disconsolate man
with a dreary life and a sinister fate?
Why become emotional in your artist's heart
at the burgeoning dawn and the veiled ocean?
 
You look out on the sea where the sun is rising,
and, as the sailors' song intoxicates your brain,
you imagine you are sailing towards a new land
where everything has the sweetness and the beauty of dream.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2021 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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This text was added to the website: 2021-11-24
Line count: 8
Word count: 69

Translation © by Peter Low
3. Crépuscule
 (Sung text)
by Mathieu Crickboom (1871 - 1947), "Crépuscule", op. 12 (Dix Mélodies pour chant et piano) no. 3 (1908) [ voice and piano ]
Language: French (Français) 
Enfin voici le soir charmant paisible et bleu,
Celui qui réconforte et qui console un peu.
Parmi l’air immobile un parfum très léger
Se répand tout à coup et semble voltiger:
 
Ou dirait une odeur d’oliban et de roses
Qui trouble et puis endort les êtres et les choses.
Et partout il se fait un grand recueillement
Le jour pesant d’ennui se meurt si lentement
 
Qu’on est las d’espérer le lever de la lune.
C’est une heure bien douce et je n’en sais aucune
Qui nous pénètre autant de grandeur, de bonté,
Et de tendre pitié pour notre humanité.

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by Víctor Orban (1868 - 1946)
3. Dusk
Language: English 
At last it is evening, peaceful and blue,
the comforting time which brings some consolation.
In the still air a very faint perfume
spreads out suddenly and seems to flutter:
 
it is like a smell of olibanum and roses
that troubles and then calms all beings and things.
And everywhere there is a great meditation.
The day, heavy with boredom, dies so slowly
 
that one is weary of hoping for the moonrise.
It's a very sweet moment - I know of no other
that fills us so much with grandeur, with goodness,
and with tender pity for humanity.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2021 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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This text was added to the website: 2021-11-24
Line count: 12
Word count: 97

Translation © by Peter Low
4. Les Roses de Saadi
 (Sung text)
by Mathieu Crickboom (1871 - 1947), "Les Roses de Saadi", op. 12 (Dix Mélodies pour chant et piano) no. 4 (1916) [ voice and piano ]
Language: French (Français) 
J'ai voulu ce matin te rapporter des roses ;
Mais j'en avais tant pris dans mes ceintures closes,
Que les nœuds trop serrés n'ont pu les contenir.

Les nœuds ont éclaté : les roses envolées,
Dans le vent, à la mer s'en sont toutes allées :
Elles ont suivi l'eau pour ne plus revenir.

La vague en a paru rouge et comme enflammée :
Ce soir, ma robe encore en est tout embaumée.
Respires-en sur moi l'odorant souvenir.

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by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore (1786 - 1859)
4.
Language: English 
This morning I wanted to bring you some roses;
but I had gathered so many into my knotted sashes
that the knots were too strained and couldn't hold them.
 
They broke.  The roses flew out
in the wind, and they all fell into the sea.
They floated off with the water and never returned.
 
They made the waves appear red as if on fire.
This evening, my dress is still strongly perfumed...
Come smell it on me - breathe its fragrant memory.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2021 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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Translation of title "Les roses de Saâdi" = "The Roses of Saadi"


This text was added to the website: 2021-11-24
Line count: 9
Word count: 81

Translation © by Peter Low
5. Là‑bas
 (Sung text)
by Mathieu Crickboom (1871 - 1947), "Là-bas", op. 12 (Dix Mélodies pour chant et piano) no. 5 (1916) [ voice and piano ]
Language: French (Français) 
Là-bas, sur la mer,
La lune se lève 
Dans le lointain clair
Et va, comme un rêve.

La lune se lève...
La lune s'en va... 

Oh ! regardons-la ! 
Vers une autre grève 
Emportant mon rêve,
La lune s'en va,
 
La lune se lève...
La lune s'en va...

Notre vie est brève 
Tout part, tout s’enfuit.
Dans la mer, la nuit,
S'en va notre rêve...

La lune se lève...
La lune s'en va...

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by Jacques Clary Jean Normand (1848 - 1931), as Jacques Madeleine
5.
Language: English 
Out there, on the ocean
the moon is rising
in the clear distance,
and moving, like a dream.
 
The moon is rising...
the moon moves away...

Oh! Let's watch it!
Towards another shore,
carrying my dream
the moon moves away...
 
The moon is rising...
the moon moves away...

Our life is short,
[everything goes, everything flees.]1
In the ocean, at night,
our dream departs.

The moon is rising...
the moon moves away...

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2021 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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View original text (without footnotes)
1 Bloch: "Like anything that shines: "


This text was added to the website: 2021-11-24
Line count: 18
Word count: 73

Translation © by Peter Low
6. Sur la falaise
 (Sung text)
by Mathieu Crickboom (1871 - 1947), "Sur la falaise", op. 12 (Dix Mélodies pour chant et piano) no. 6 (1916) [ voice and piano ]
Language: French (Français) 
Les papillons bleus, les papillons blancs,
Sur les prés mouillés et les blés tremblants,
   Vont battant des ailes.
C'est sous le soleil un frémissement
Qui fait s'incliner les fleurs doucement
   Sur leurs tiges frêles.

Contre les rochers, avec des sanglots, 
En bas, l’Océan vient briser ses flots 
  Brodés d’étincelles.
Là-haut, sans souci des flots onduleux, 
Les papillons blancs, les papillons bleus 
  Vont battant des ailes.

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by Paul Bourget (1852 - 1935)
6. On the clifftop
Language: English 
The blue butterflies, the white butterflies
on the wet meadows and the trembling wheat-fields
are beating their wings.
In the sunlight it's a quivering
that makes the flowers gently sway
on their fragile stems.
 
Against the rocks below, with sobs and sighs
the Ocean comes to shatter
its sparkling waves.
Above, untroubled by the surging waters
The blue butterflies, the white butterflies
are beating their wings.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2021 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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This text was added to the website: 2021-11-24
Line count: 12
Word count: 66

Translation © by Peter Low
7. Ô triste était mon âme
 (Sung text)
by Mathieu Crickboom (1871 - 1947), "Ô triste était mon âme", op. 12 (Dix Mélodies pour chant et piano) no. 7 (1908) [ voice and piano ]
Language: French (Français) 
Ô triste, triste était mon âme
À cause, à cause d'une femme. 

Je ne me suis pas consolé 
Bien que mon cœur s'en soit allé.

Bien que mon cœur, bien que mon âme 
Eussent fui loin de cette femme. 

Je ne me suis pas consolé,
Bien que mon cœur s'en soit allé. 

Et mon cœur, mon cœur trop sensible 
Dit à mon âme : Est-il possible, 

Est-il possible, -- le fût-il, -- 
Ce fier exil, ce triste exil ? 

Mon âme dit à mon cœur : Sais-je 
Moi-même, que nous veut ce piège 

D'être présents bien qu'exilés, 
Encore que loin en allés ?

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by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896)
7. Oh, sad, sad was my heart
Language: English 
Oh, sad, sad was my heart,
Because, because of a woman.

I found no consolation
Though my heart had gone away,

Though my heart, though my soul
Had fled far from this woman.

I found no consolation
Though my heart had gone away.

And my heart, my too sensitive heart
Said to my soul: Is it possible,

Is it possible, -- was it, --
This proud exile, this sad exile?

My soul said to my heart: Do I myself
Know what this trap wants from us, this trap

Of being present even when exiled,
Even though gone far away?

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2007 by Laura L. Nagle, (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: 2007-02-04
Line count: 16
Word count: 97

Translation © by Laura L. Nagle
8. Le Seigneur a dit
 (Sung text)
by Mathieu Crickboom (1871 - 1947), "Le Seigneur a dit", op. 12 (Dix Mélodies pour chant et piano) no. 8 (1908) [ voice and piano ]
Language: French (Français) 
Le Seigneur a dit à son enfant:
Va, par le clair jardin innocent
Des anges, où brillent les pommes 
Et les roses. Il est à toi. C'est ton royaume.
Mais ne cueille des choses 
Que la fleur ;
Laisse le fruit aux branches,
N'approfondis pas le bonheur.

Ne cherche pas à connaître
Le secret de la terre
Et l'énigme des êtres.
N'écoute pas la voix qui t'attire
Au fond de l'ombre, la voix qui tente,
La voix du serpent, ou la voix des sirènes,
Ou celle des colombes ardentes
Aux bosquets sombres de l'Amour.
Reste ignorante,
Ne pense pas ; chante.
Tout science est vaine,
N'aime que la beauté.
Et qu'elle soit pour toi toute la vérité.

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by Charles van Lerberghe (1861 - 1907)
8. The Lord said
Language: English 
The Lord God said to his child:
Walk in the bright and innocent
garden of the angels, where apples and roses
are gleaming.  It is yours. Your kingdom.
But best not wake anything
except the flowers;
leave the fruit on the branches,
do not analyse happiness.

Do not try to know
the secret of the earth
and the enigma of beings.
Do not listen to the enticing voice
from deep in the shadow, the one that tempts,
the serpent's voice, or the sirens',
or the voice of the ardent doves
in the dark groves of Eros.
Remain unknowing.
Do not think - sing!
All knowledge is vain,
love only beauty.
And may she be for you all truth.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2021 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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Translations of titles
"Berceuse" = "Lullaby"
"Le Seigneur a dit" = "The Lord said"



This text was added to the website: 2021-11-24
Line count: 21
Word count: 117

Translation © by Peter Low

 (The following is a multi-text setting.)

9. Roses ardentes 
  Roses ardentes
Dans l'immobile nuit,
C'est en vous que je chante
  Et que je suis.

En vous, étincelles,
À la cime des bois,
Que je suis éternelle
  Et que je vois.

  Ô mer profonde,
C'est en toi que mon sang
Renaît vague blonde,
  En flot dansant.

 ...

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Confirmed with Charles Van Lerberghe, La Chanson d’Ève, Société du Mercure de France, 1904, 2e éd., pages 25-26.


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Comme elle chante
Dans ma voix,
L'âme longtemps murmurante
Des fontaines et des bois !

Air limpide du paradis,
Avec tes grappes de rubis,
Avec tes gerbes de lumière,
Avec tes roses et tes fruits ;

Quelle merveille en nous à cette heure !
Des paroles depuis des âges endormies
En des sons, en des fleurs.
Sur mes lèvres enfin prennent vie.

 ...

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Confirmed with Charles Van Lerberghe, La Chanson d’Ève, Société du Mercure de France, 1904, 2e éd., pages 27-28.


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
 ... 

Et c'est en toi, force suprême,
  Soleil radieux,
Que mon âme elle-même
  Atteint son dieu !

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Confirmed with Charles Van Lerberghe, La Chanson d’Ève, Société du Mercure de France, 1904, 2e éd., pages 25-26.


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Author(s): Charles van Lerberghe (1861 - 1907)
9. Fiery roses
Fiery roses
in the still night,
in you I am singing,
in you I exist.

Sparks
at the tips of the forest,
in you I am eternal,
in you I can see.

Deep ocean, in you
my blood is reborn
as a white-capped wave,
as a dancing tide.

 ...

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.
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Translations of titles
"Roses ardentes dans l'immobile nuit" = "Fiery roses in the still night"
"Roses ardentes" = "Fiery roses"



 In my voice there sings
 - and how it sings! -
 the long-murmuring soul
 of the streams and woods!

 Oh limpid air of paradise,
 with your clusters of rubies,
 your sheaves of light,
 your roses and your fruits,

 what a miracle is happening in us at this moment!
 Words that for eons were sleeping
 are now at last coming to life
 in sounds, in flowers on my lips.

 ...

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.
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 ... 

And in you, supreme force,
radiant sun,
my very soul
reaches its God!

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.
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Translations of titles
"Roses ardentes dans l'immobile nuit" = "Fiery roses in the still night"
"Roses ardentes" = "Fiery roses"



Translation © by Peter Low
10. Les Grotesques
 (Sung text)
by Mathieu Crickboom (1871 - 1947), "Les Grotesques", op. 12 (Dix Mélodies pour chant et piano) no. 10 (1908) [ voice and piano ]
Language: French (Français) 
Leurs jambes pour toutes montures,
Pour tous biens l'or de leurs regards,
Par le chemin des aventures
Ils vont haillonneux et hagards.

Le sage, indigné, les harangue ;
Le sot plaint ces fous hasardeux ;
Les enfants leur tirent la langue
Et les filles se moquent d'eux.

C'est qu'odieux et ridicules,
Et maléfiques en effet,
Ils ont l'air, sur les crépuscules,
D'un mauvais rêve que l'on fait ;

C'est que, sur leurs aigres guitares
Crispant la main des libertés,
Ils nasillent des chants bizarres,
Nostalgiques et révoltés ;

C'est enfin que dans leurs prunelles
Rit et pleure — fastidieux —
L'amour des choses éternelles,
Des vieux morts et des anciens dieux !

— Donc, allez, vagabonds sans trêves,
Errez, funestes et maudits,
Le long des gouffres et des grèves,
Sous l'œil fermé des paradis !

La nature à l'homme s'allie
Pour châtier comme il le faut
L'orgueilleuse mélancolie
Qui vous fait marcher le front haut,

Et, vengeant sur vous le blasphème
Des vastes espoirs véhéments,
Meurtrit votre front anathème
Au choc rude des éléments.

Les juins brûlent et les décembres
Gèlent votre chair jusqu'aux os,
Et la fièvre envahit vos membres
Qui se déchirent aux roseaux.

Tout vous repousse et tout vous navre,
Et quand la mort viendra pour vous,
Maigre et froide, votre cadavre
Sera dédaigné par les loups !

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by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896)
10. The grotesque vagabonds
Language: English 
With only their legs to carry them,
no goods but the gold of their gaze,
along the path of adventure,
they walk looking wild and tattered.
 
The wise man, angered, harangues them;
the idiot pities these dubious fools,
the children poke out their tongues
and the girls make fun of them.
 
That's because they're odious and laughable,
and indeed malevolent,
and they seem, in the hours of twilight,
to be somebody's bad dream.
 
It's because, on their shrill guitars
tensing their freedom-loving hands,
they drone out chants that are weird,
nostalgic and rebellious.
 
And because deep in their eyes
there laughs and weeps - tiresomely -
the love of eternal things,
of men long dead and of the ancient gods!
 
- So off you go, unceasing vagabonds,
wander, tragic and accursed,
along the ravines and the beaches
under the closed eyes of paradises!
 
Nature joins with man
to punish in appropriate ways
the arrogant melancholy
that makes you walk tall,
 
and, avenging on you the blasphemy
of your vast and vehement hopes,
bruises your doomed foreheads
with the rude shock of the elements.
 
Junes burn and Decembers freeze
your flesh to the bones,
and fevers invade your limbs,
which are torn by the reeds where you walk.
 
Everything repels, everything saddens you
and when death comes, skinny and cold,
to take you, your corpses then
will be scorned by the wolves!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2021 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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Translations of titles
"Grotesques = "Grotesque vagabonds"
"Les Grotesques" = "The grotesque vagabonds"



This text was added to the website: 2021-11-24
Line count: 40
Word count: 228

Translation © by Peter Low