The Garden of Caresses

Translations © by Grant Hicks

Song Cycle by Irène Fuerison (1875 - 1931)

View original-language texts alone: Le jardin des caresses, op. 93

1. Images  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
Un coq qui chante, un cheval qui piaffe, un chat qui rentre :
l'aube. 

Un lis qui s'incline, un citron qui tombe, un arbre qui craque : 
midi. 

Les sables qui bleuissent, les fumées qui montent, 
les amants qui se retrouvent : 
la nuit.

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Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, L'édition d'Art H. Piazza, p.65


by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
1. Images
Language: English 
A cock crowing, a horse stamping, a cat returning:
dawn. 

A lily bending, a lemon falling, a tree rustling:
noon. 

Sands turning blue, smoke rising,
lovers meeting:
night.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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: 2026-02-25
Line count: 7
Word count: 28

Translation © by Grant Hicks
2. La Solitude  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
Comme chaque jour, je l'attends. Reviendra-t-elle ? 
Je pense au soir de l'adieu, 
au bruit de la porte qu'elle referma sans colère,
au silence qu'il y eut dans mon âme. 
Comme chaque jour, je l'attends. Reviendra-t-elle ?
Elle entrerait en disant, pour parler : 
« Je passais devant ta demeure,  
et je viens voir si les roses n'ont pas souffert de l'hiver... » 
Puis, elle sourirait à mon petit jardin, à l'horizon calme,
et je sais bien qu'elle ne repartirait pas.

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Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, Paris: L'édition d'Art H. Piazza, 1921, pages 124-125.


by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
2. Loneliness
Language: English 
As I do every day, I wait for her. Will she return?
I think of the night of our farewell,
Of the noise of the door that she closed without anger,
Of the silence that filled my soul.
As I do every day, I wait for her. Will she return? 
She would come in and say, just to say something, 
"I was passing by your house, 
and I am coming to see if the roses haven't suffered from the winter ... " 
Then, she would smile at my little garden, at the calm horizon, 
and I am sure that she wouldn't leave again.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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:
"La Solitude" = "Loneliness"
"Solitude" = "Loneliness"


This text was added to the website: 2026-02-26
Line count: 10
Word count: 102

Translation © by Grant Hicks
3. Son nom?  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
Si vous voulez savoir le nom de celle que j'ai le plus aimée,
cherchez à vous rappeler le nom de celle qui m'a fait le plus souffrir. 

Si votre mémoire vous trahit ou si vous n'avez pas connu cette femme,
disposez vos lèvres comme pour donner un baiser : 
son nom se prononce ainsi.

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Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, L'édition d'Art H. Piazza, p.136


by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
3. Her Name
Language: English 
If you want to know the name of the one I've loved the most, 
try to remember the name of the one who has caused me the most pain. 

If your memory fails you or you haven't met this woman, 
shape your lips as if to bestow a kiss:
that's how her name is pronounced.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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: 2026-02-23
Line count: 5
Word count: 55

Translation © by Grant Hicks
4. Le sommeil des lévriers  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
À l'ombre aiguë du cyprès, mes deux lévriers dorment, 
comme des flèches dans un carquois.

Referme doucement la porte, et viens les caresser : 
ta main fera passer dans leurs rêves la fraîcheur 
d'un ruisseau du Liban.

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Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, L'édition d'Art H. Piazza, p.30


by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
4. The Sleep of Greyhounds
Language: English 
In the pointed shadow of the cypress, my two greyhounds are sleeping, 
like arrows in a quiver.

Close the door softly, and come stroke them:
your hand will introduce into their dreams the coolness
of a Lebanese stream.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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:
"Les lévriers" = "The Greyhounds"
"Le sommeil des lévriers" = "The Sleep of Greyhounds"


This text was added to the website: 2026-02-25
Line count: 5
Word count: 38

Translation © by Grant Hicks
5. Stances  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
Bien des fois, sur mon casque et sur ma cotte de mailles, 
j'ai entendu, impassible, le choc des flèches et des sabres, 
mais je ne peux entendre, sans tressaillir, 
le bruissement léger de sa robe. 

Bien des fois, au plus fort des mêlées, 
j'ai entendu avec indifférence les fanfares de l'ennemi, 
mais je ne peux entendre, sans pleurer,
la musique de ses chansons. 

Bien des fois, d'une main ferme,
j'ai étanché le sang de mes blessures,
mais je ne peux regarder, sans trembler,
la rouge fleur de sa bouche. 

Bien des fois, en souriant,
j'ai défié des combattants redoutables, 
mais toute la vie de mon corps s'arrête,
quand elle m'ouvre ses bras dans l'ombre.

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Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, L'édition d'Art H. Piazza, p.116


by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
5. Stanzas
Language: English 
Many a time, on my helmet and on my coat of mail
have I heard, unmoved, the impact of arrows and sabers,
but I cannot hear, without a thrill,
the light rustling of her robe.

Many a time, in the most strenuous of battles,
have I heard with indifference the fanfares of the enemy,
but I cannot hear, without weeping,
the music of her singing.

Many a time, with a steady hand,
have I stanched the blood of my wounds,
but I cannot look, without trembling,
at the red flower of her mouth.

Many a time, with a smile, 
have I faced formidable combatants, 
but all the life of my body comes to a halt 
when she opens her arms to me in the shadows.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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: 2026-04-16
Line count: 16
Word count: 125

Translation © by Grant Hicks
6. La pluie sur les roses  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
Une goutte tombe, [ensuite]1 une autre. 
C'est la première pluie sur les premières roses. 

D'abord, elles frissonnent, attristées. 
Mais, bientôt, leurs couleurs s'avivent 
et leur parfum devient plus délicieux. 

Tes premières larmes sur notre amour.

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Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, L'édition d'Art H. Piazza, 1906, p.118

1 Thève: "et puis"

by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
6. Rain on the Roses
Language: English 
One drop falls, then another. 
It is the first rain on the first roses.

At first they shudder in distress. 
But soon their colors grow brighter
and their scent more delightful. 

Your first tears over our love.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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:
"La pluie sur les roses" = "Rain on the Roses"
"La pluie sur les roses (A chuva sobre as rosas)" = "Rain on the Roses"


This text was added to the website: 2026-02-23
Line count: 6
Word count: 38

Translation © by Grant Hicks
7. Son sourire  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
Quand je lui demande grâce, elle se contente de sourire,
les yeux baissés.
Que puis-je attendre d'un amour si redoutable ?
Elle sait la puissance de son sourire.
Comment lui cacher que je l'aime ?

Tu es mon univers, avec des collines et des jardins, 
avec des sources et des moissons.
Je voudrais avoir mille bouches. 
Je voudrais n'avoir jamais besoin de sommeil. 
Pourtant, ne suis-je pas le voyageur qui s'endort,
chaque soir, sous des ombrages parfumés ?

Tu es mon univers, avec des collines et des jardins, 
avec des sources et des moissons. 
Lorsque ton haleine passe sur mon visage, 
je pense aux brises du Hedjâz, 
qui ont effeuillé d'innombrables roses. 

Mes faucons maigrissent sur leurs perchoirs, 
mes chevaux perdent l'habitude du mors, 
l'éclat de mes armes se ternit... 
Qu'importe ! puisque l'éclat de tes joues est pareil 
au cœur sanglant des grenades, 
puisque ton ventre est plus souple que le dos de mes coursiers, 
puisque tes baisers sont des faucons toujours inassouvis !

Etendu sur les douces collines de ton corps, 
je bois à la source de ta bouche en étreignant mes moissons.

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Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, Paris: L'édition d'Art H. Piazza, 1906, pages 7-8.


by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
7. Her Smile
Language: English 
When I beg her for mercy, she contents herself with a smile,
her eyes lowered.
What can I expect of a love so formidable?
She knows the power of her smile.
How can I hide from her that I love her?

You are my world, with hills and gardens,
with springs and harvests.
I wish I had a thousand mouths.
I wish I never needed to sleep.
Yet am I not the traveler who falls asleep,
each night, beneath perfumed shadows?

You are my world, with hills and gardens,
with springs and harvests.
When your breath passes over my face,
I think of the breezes of Hedjâz,
which have plucked the petals from countless roses. 

My falcons grow lean on their perches,
my horses grow unaccustomed to the bit,
the glow of my weapons tarnishes...
No matter! for the glow of your cheeks is like
the bloody heart of a pomegranate,
for your stomach is more supple than the backs of my coursers,
for your kisses are falcons that are never sated!

Stretched out on the gentle hills of your body,
I drink from the spring of your mouth while embracing my harvest.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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: 2026-04-16
Line count: 25
Word count: 193

Translation © by Grant Hicks
8. Mirage  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
Je m'étais endormi, et je rêvais qu'une caravane exténuée 
traversait un désert, où je la guidais. 
Et qu'un fabuleux mirage surgissait devant nous, 
et que ce mirage était toi-même,
avec les lacs de tes yeux et les vergers de ton corps. 
Et que tu t'élançais vers moi, et que mes compagnons, 
désespérés, se couchaient pour mourir. 
Je viens de prononcer ton nom, afin de recommencer ce rêve... 
Hélas ! on ne voit jamais deux fois le même mirage.

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Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, Paris: L'édition d'Art H. Piazza, 1921, pages 19-20.


by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
8. Mirage
Language: English 
I went to sleep, and I dreamed that a weary caravan 
was crossing a desert, where I was leading it. 
And that a fabulous mirage appeared before us, 
and that this mirage was you yourself, 
with lakes of your eyes and orchards of your body. 
And that you rushed towards me, and that my companions, 
in desperation, lay down to die. 
I have just spoken your name, so as to begin this dream again ... 
Alas! No one sees the same mirage twice.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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:
"Le mirage" = "The Mirage"
"Mirage" = "Mirage"


This text was added to the website: 2026-03-04
Line count: 9
Word count: 82

Translation © by Grant Hicks
9. Le regret  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
Les ailes de la Nuit se sont refermées sur la Terre. 
Les ailes de tes paupières se sont refermées sur tes yeux. 
Tu dors. Ce n'est pas encore la rosée, qui mouille ta gorge. 
Ce sont mes larmes, car je pense à un bonheur perdu ! 
Sous quelles caresses s'endort-elle, à cette heure ?

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Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, L'édition d'Art H. Piazza, 63-ième édition, p.137


by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
9. Regret
Language: English 
The wings of the Night have closed over the Earth. 
The wings of your eyelids have closed over your eyes. 
You are asleep. It is not yet the dew that moistens your throat. 
It is my tears, for I am thinking of a lost joy!
Under what caresses is she going to sleep, even now?

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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: 2026-02-25
Line count: 5
Word count: 55

Translation © by Grant Hicks