Three Poems of Franz Toussaint

Translations © by Grant Hicks

Song Cycle by Pierre Giriat (1886 - 1979)

View original-language texts alone: Trois Poèmes de Franz Toussaint, op. 4

1. Le 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)
1.
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
2. L'Heure tranquille  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
Voici l'heure tranquille où les troupeaux s'acheminent vers le puits.
Le jour décroît.
J'attends ma bien-aimée, étendu sur les coussins qui gardaient 
l'empreinte de son corps.
En signal, j'ai posé sur la fenêtre un vase 
dans lequel trempe la tige d'une rose. 
Cette rose se détache au sommet d'une colline bleue.

Text Authorship:

Based on:

See other settings of this text.

Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, Paris: H. Piazza, 1919.


by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
2. The Peaceful Hour
Language: English 
This is the peaceful hour when the flocks make their way towards the well.
The day wanes. 
I await my beloved, stretched out on the pillows that used to hold
the imprint of her body. 
As a sign I have set a vase in the window 
in which is immersed the stem of a rose. 
This rose is plucked at the top of a blue hill.

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.
    Contact: 

Based on:

Based on:

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This text was added to the website: 2026-02-22
Line count: 7
Word count: 66

Translation © by Grant Hicks
3. Il jaillit d'un bassin...  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: French (Français) 
Il jaillit d'un bassin pavé de nénuphars, 
et son gonfanon irisé rallie, le soir, les coulombes. 
Quelquefois, le vent lui arrache une poussière fraiche, 
qui tourbillonne jusqu'à notre banc. 
Alors, seulement, je fais entendre à ma bien-aimée
mes éternels reproches. 
Et si ma bien-aimée vient à essuyer ses yeux, 
je maudis la poussière du jet d'eau.

Text Authorship:

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Confirmed with Franz Toussaint, Le jardin des caresses, Paris: H. Piazza, 1921, pages 118-119.


by Franz Toussaint (1879 - 1955)
3. It springs from a pool
Language: English 
It springs from a pool tiled with lily pads, 
And its iridescent banner rallies the doves in the evening. 
Sometimes the wind snatches from it a cool spray 
that swirls all the way to our bench.
Only then do I let my beloved hear
my unending reproaches.
And if my beloved happens to wipe her eyes, 
I curse the spray from the fountain.

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.
    Contact: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view

Translations of titles:
"Il jaillit d'un bassin..." = "It springs from a pool"
"La poussière du jet d'eau" = "The spray from the fountain"



This text was added to the website: 2026-03-18
Line count: 8
Word count: 63

Translation © by Grant Hicks