Songs of Bilitis

Translations © by Marvin J. Ward

Song Cycle by Claude Achille Debussy (1862 - 1918)

View original-language texts alone: Chansons de Bilitis

1. Chant pastoral
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Il faut chanter un chant pastoral, invoquer 
Pan, dieu du vent d'été.  Je garde mon 
troupeau et Sélénis le sien, à l'ombre ronde 
d'un olivier qui tremble.

Sélénis est couchée sur le pré. Elle se
lève et court, ou cherche des cigales, ou 
cueille des fleurs avec des herbes, ou lave 
son visage dans l'eau fraîche du ruisseau.

Moi, j'arrache la laine au dos blond des 
moutons pour en garnir ma quenouille, et je 
file. Les heures sont lentes. Un aigle 
passe dans le ciel.

L'ombre tourne: changeons de place la corbeille 
de fleurs et la jarre de lait. 
Il faut chanter un chant pastoral, 
invoquer Pan, dieu du vent d'été.

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
1. Pastoral Song
Language: English 
We must sing a pastoral song, invoke Pan, 
god of the summer wind. I watch my flock 
and Sélénis watches hers, in the round
shade of a trembling olive tree.

Sélénis is lying in the meadow. 
She rises and runs, or searches for grasshoppers, 
or gathers flowers with grasses, 
or washes her face in the cool water of the brook.

And I, I tear the wool from the blond backs of the sheep 
to fill up my distaff, and I spin. 
The hours pass too slowly. 
An eagle passes in the sky.

The shade turns, let us move the basket 
of [figs]1 and the jar of milk. 
We must sing a pastoral song, 
invoke Pan, god of the summer wind.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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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1 Debussy: "flowers"


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 121

Translation © by Marvin J. Ward
2. Les Comparaisons
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Bergeronnette, oiseau de Kypris, chante 
avec nos premiers désirs ! Le corps nouveau 
des jeunes filles se couvre de fleurs comme 
la terre. La nuit de tous nos rêves approche 
et nous en parlons entre nous.

Parfois, nous comparons ensemble nos beautés 
si différentes, nos chevelures déjà longues, 
nos jeunes seins encore petits, nos pubertés 
rondes comme des cailles et blotties sous la 
plume naissante.

Hier je luttai de la sorte contre Melanthô 
mon aînée. Elle était fière de sa poitrine qui
venait de croître en un mois, et, montrant 
ma tunique droite, elle m'avait appelée:
Petite enfant.

Pas un homme ne pouvait nous voir, nous nous 
mîmes nues devant les filles, et, si elle 
vainquit sur un point, je l'emportai de loin
sur les autres. Bergeronnette, oiseau de 
Kypris, chante avec nos premiers désirs!

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
2. Comparisons
Language: English 
 Little Sparrow, bird of Kypris, sing with our first desires! The
 fresh bodies of the young girls are covered with flowers like the
 earth. The night of all our dreams is approaching and we talk of it
 amongst ourselves.

 Sometimes, we compare together our beauties so different, our hair
 already long, our young breasts still small, our puberties round like
 quails and hidden under the nascent down.

 Yesterday, I fought this way with Melanthô my elder. She was
 proud of her breasts which had grown in a month, and, pointing to my
 flat tunic, she called me Little Child.

 Not a single man could see us, we got naked in front of the girls,
 and, if she won on one point, I won by far on the others. Little
 Sparrow, bird of Kypris, sing with our first desires!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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: 139

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3. Les contes
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Je suis aimée des petits enfants; dès qu'ils 
me voient, ils courent à moi, et s'accrochent 
à ma tunique et prennent mes jambes dans 
leurs petits bras.

S'ils ont cueilli des fleurs, ils me les donnent 
toutes ; s'ils ont pris un scarabée ils le 
mettent dans ma main; s'ils n'ont rien ils me 
caressent et me font asseoir devant eux.

Alors ils m'embrassent sur la joue, ils 
posent leurs têtes sur mes seins ; ils me 
supplient avec les yeux. Je sais bien ce que 
cela veut dire.

Cela veut dire: "Bilitis chérie, redis-nous, 
car nous sommes gentils, l'histoire du héros 
Perseus ou la mort de la petite Hellé."

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
3. The tales
Language: English 
I am beloved of the little children; 
as soon as they see me, they run to me,
and clutch my tunic, and take my legs 
in their little arms.

If they have gathered flowers, they give them all to me;
if they have caught a beetle, they put it in my hand; 
if they have nothing, they caress me 
and make me sit down in front of them.

Then they kiss me on the cheek, 
they put their heads on my breasts;
they plead with me with their eyes. 
I know well what that means.

That means: "Dear Bilitis, tell us [again] 
because we are nice,  the story 
of the hero Perseus or the death of little Hellé. "

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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: 15
Word count: 119

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4. Chanson
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
«Ombre du bois où elle devait venir, dis-moi, 
où est allée ma maîtresse ? 
-- Elle est descendue dans la plaine.
-- Plaine, où est allée ma maîtresse ? 
-- Elle a suivi les bords du fleuve.

-- Beau fleuve qui l'as vue passer, dis-moi, 
est-elle près d'ici ? 
-- Elle m'a quitté pour le chemin.
-- Chemin, la vois-tu encore ? 
-- Elle m'a laissé pour la route.

-- Ô route blanche, route de la ville, dis-moi, 
où l'as-tu conduite ? 
-- À la rue d'or qui entre à Sardes.
-- Ô rue de lumière, touches-tu ses pieds nus ? 
-- Elle est entrée au palais du roi.

-- Ô palais, splendeur de la terre, rends-la-moi !
-- Regarde, elle a des colliers sur les seins 
et des houppes dans les cheveux,
cent perles le long des jambes, 
deux bras autour de la taille.»

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
4. Song
Language: English 
"Shade of the woods where she was to come, 
Tell me where did my mistress go?" 
"She went down onto the plain." - 
"Plain, where did my mistress go?" -
"She followed the banks of the stream."

"Beautiful river, who saw her pass, 
tell me, is she near here?" 
"She left me for the path." - 
"Path, do you see her still?" -
"She left me for the road."

"O white road, road to the city, tell me, 
where did you lead her?" - 
"To the golden road which enters Sardis." -
"O, road of light, do you touch her bare feet?" -
"She went into the palace of the king."

"O palace, splendor of the earth, give her back to me!" - 
"Look, she has collars on her breasts 
and tassels in her hair, 
a hundred pearls along her legs, 
two arms around her waist."

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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. La partie d'osselets
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Comme nous l'aimions toutes les deux, 
nous l'avons joué aux osselets.  
Et ce fut une partie célèbre. 
Beaucoup de jeunes filles y assistaient.

Elle amena d'abord le coup des Kyklôpes, 
et moi, le coup de Sôlon.  Mais elle, 
le Kallibolos, et moi, me sentant perdue, 
je priais la déesse !

Je jouai, j'eus l'Epiphénôn, 
elle le terrible coup de Khios, moi l'Antiteukhos, 
elle le Trikhias, et moi le coup d'Aphroditê 
qui gagna l'amant disputé.

Mais la voyant pâlir, je la pris par le cou 
et je lui dis tout près de l'oreille 
(pour qu'elle seule m'entendît) : 
« Ne pleure pas, petite amie, 
nous le laisserons choisir entre nous. »

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
5. The Game of Jacks
Language: English 
Since we both love him, 
we played jacks with him. 
And it was a famous game. 
Many young girls watched it.

First, she cast the throw of the Kyclôpes, 
and I, the throw of Sôlon.  But she, 
the Kallibolos, and I, feeling I'd lost, 
I prayed to the goddess!

I played, I had the Epiphénôn,
she the terrible throw of Khios, me the Antiteukhos,
she the Trikhias, and I the throw of Aphrodite
which won the disputed lover.

But, seeing her grow pale, I took her by the neck
and I told her everything in her ear 
(so that she alone could hear me): 
"Do not cry, little friend, 
we will let him choose between us."

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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: 17
Word count: 116

Translation © by Marvin J. Ward
6. Bilitis
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Une femme s'enveloppe de laine blanche. 
Une autre se vêt de soie et d'or. 
Une autre se couvre de fleurs, 
de feuilles vertes et de raisins.

Moi, je ne saurais vivre que nue. 
Mon amant, prends-moi comme je suis: 
sans robe ni bijoux ni sandales, 
voici Bilitis toute seule.

Mes cheveux sont noirs de leur noir 
et mes lèvres rouges de leur rouge. 
Mes boucles flottent autour de moi libres 
et rondes comme des plumes.

Prends-moi telle que ma mère m'a faite 
dans une nuit d'amour lointaine, 
et si je te plais ainsi, 
n'oublie pas de me le dire.

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
6. Bilitis
Language: English 
One woman envelops herself in white wool.
Another clothes herself in silk and gold.
Another covers herself in flowers, 
green leaves and grapes. 

I, I can only live naked. 
My lover, take me as I am: 
without dress or jewels or sandals, 
here is Bilitis alone. 

My hair is black with its blackness 
and my lips are red with their redness. 
My curls float around me free 
and round like feathers. 

Take me just as my mother made me 
in a night of love long ago, 
and if I am pleasing to you thus, 
do not forget to tell me so.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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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7. Le tombeau sans nom
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Mnasidika m'ayant prise par la main 
me mena hors des portes de la ville, 
jusqu'à un petit champ inculte 
où il y avait une stèle de marbre. 
Et elle me dit : « Celle-ci fut l'amie de ma mère. »

Alors je sentis un grand frisson,
et sans cesser de lui tenir la main, 
je me penchai sur son épaule,
afin de lire les quatre vers 
entre la coupe creuse et le serpent :

« Ce n'est pas la mort qui m'a enlevée, 
mais les Nymphes des fontaines. 
Je repose ici sous une terre légère 
avec la chevelure coupée de Xanthô.
Qu'elle seule me pleure. 
Je ne dis pas mon nom. »

Longtemps nous sommes restées debout, 
et nous n'avons pas versé la libation. 
Car comment appeler une âme inconnue
d'entre les foules de l'Hadès?

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
7. The Nameless Tomb
Language: English 
Mnasidika having taken me by the hand
led me outside the gates of the city, 
to a small uncultivated field
where there was a marble stele,
and she said to me: "This was my mother's lover."

Then I felt a great shiver, 
and without letting go of her hand, 
I leaned on her shoulder, 
in order to read the four verses 
between the hollow cup and the snake:

"It is not death that took me away
but the Nymphs of the springs. 
I am resting here beneath the light earth 
with Xanthô's cut hair. 
May she alone weep for me. 
I do not tell my name." 

We remained standing for a long time,
and we did not pour the libation.
For how should we call an unknown soul 
from amongst the throngs in Hades?

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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. Les Courtisanes égyptiennes
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Je suis allée avec Plangon 
chez les courtisanes égyptiennes, 
tout en haut de la vielle ville. 
Elles ont des amphores de terre, 
des plateaux de cuivre et des nattes jaunes 
où elles s'accroupissent sans effort.

Leurs chambres sont silencieuses, 
sans angles et sans encoignures,
tant les couches successives de chaux bleue 
ont émoussé les chapiteaux 
et arrondi le pied des murs.

Elles se tiennent immobiles, 
les mains posées sur les genoux. 
Quand elles offrent la bouillie, 
elles murmurent : "Bonheur." 
Et quand on les remercie, 
elles disent: "Grâce à toi."

Elles comprennent le hellène et feignent 
de le parler mal pour se rire de nous dans leur langue ; 
mais nous, dent pour dent, nous parlons lydien 
et elles s'inquiètent tout à coup.

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
8. The Egyptian Courtesans
Language: English 
I went with Plango 
to the Egyptian courtesans, 
way up at the top of the old city. 
They have earthenware amphorae, 
copper platters and yellow mats 
where they squat without effort. 

Their bedrooms are quiet, 
without angles or corners, 
so much have the successive layers of blue stucco 
blunted the capitals 
and rounded the base of the walls. 

They stand motionless, 
their hands resting on their knees. 
When they offer the soup, 
they murmur: "Happiness." 
And when you thank them,
they say: "Thanks to you." 

They understand Hellenic and pretend to speak it badly 
in order to make fun of us in their language; 
but we, tooth for tooth, we speak Lydian 
and suddenly they become uneasy.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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. L'eau pure du bassin
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
"Eau pure du bassin, miroir immobile, 
dis-moi ma beauté. -  ...  Bilitis, ou qui que tu sois, 
Téthys peut-être  ou Amphitritê, 
tu es belle, sache-le.

"Ton visage se penche sous ta chevelure épaisse,
gonflée de fleurs et de parfums. 
Tes paupières molles s'ouvrent à peine 
et tes flancs sont las des mouvements de l'amour.

"Ton corps fatigué du poids de tes seins 
porte les marques fines de l'ongle 
et les taches bleues du baiser. 
Tes bras sont rougis par l'étreinte. 
Chaque ligne de ta peau fut aimée.

-- Eau claire du bassin, ta fraîcheur repose. 
Reçois-moi, qui suis lasse en effet. 
Emporte le fard de mes joues, et la sueur de mon ventre 
et le souvenir de la nuit."

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
9. The pure water of the basin
Language: English 
"Pure water of the basin, motionless mirror, 
tell me my beauty." "Bilitis, or whoever you are,
Thetys perhaps or Amphitrite, 
you are beautiful, know it. 

Your face is tilted beneath your thick hair,
swollen with flowers and perfume. 
Your soft eyelids are scarcely open 
and your flanks are weary from the movements of love. 

Your body tired from the weight of your breasts bears 
the fine marks of the fingernail 
and the blue stains of the kiss. 
Your arms are red from the embrace. 
Every line of your skin was loved." 

"Clear water of the basin, your coolness gives rest. 
Receive me who am indeed weary. 
Take away the color from my cheeks, and the sweat from
my belly and the memory of the night."

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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: 125

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10. La Danseuse aux crotales
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Tu attaches à tes mains légères 
tes crotales retentissants, Myrrhinidion ma chérie, 
et à peine nue hors de la robe, 
tu étires tes membres nerveux. 
Que tu es jolie, les bras en l'air, 
les reins arqués et les seins rouges!

Tu commences : tes pieds l'un devant l'autre se posent,
hésitent, et glissent mollement. 
Ton corps se plie comme une écharpe, 
tu caresses ta peau qui frissonne, 
et la volupté inonde tes longs yeux évanouis.

Tout à coup, tu claques des crotales ! 
Cambre-toi sur tes pieds dressés, secoue les reins, 
lance les jambes et que tes mains pleines de fracas appellent 
tous les désirs en bande autour de ton corps tournoyant !

Nous applaudissons à grands cris, soit que, 
souriant sur l'épaule, tu agites d'un frémissement 
ta croupe convulsive et musclée, 
soit que tu ondules presque étendue, 
au rythme de tes souvenirs.

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
10. The Dancer With Krotales
Language: English 
You attach to your light hands 
your resounding krotales, Myrrhinidion, my dear, 
and barely naked out of the dress, 
you stretch your nervous limbs. 
How pretty you are, arms in the air, 
loins arched and breasts red! 

You begin: you place your feet one in front of the other,
hesitate, and slide softly. 
Your body bends like a scarf, 
you caress your skin which shivers, 
and voluptuousness floods your long fainted eyes. 

Suddenly, you strike the krotales! 
Arch yourself up on your raised feet, 
shake your loins, throw your legs and your hands full of noise
call all the desires in a band around your spinning body. 

We applaud with great cries, whether, 
smiling over your shoulder, 
you shake with a shiver your convulsive and muscular behind, 
or you undulate almost extended, 
to the rhythm of your memories.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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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11. Le Souvenir de Mnasidika
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
Elles dansaient l'une devant l'autre, 
d'un mouvement rapide et fuyant; 
elles semblaient toujours vouloir s'enlacer, 
et pourtant ne se touchaient point, 
si ce n'est du bout des lèvres.

Quand elles tournaient le dos en dansant, 
elles se regardaient, la tête sur l'épaule, 
et la sueur brillait sous leurs bras levés, 
et leurs chevelures fines passaient devant leurs seins.

La langueur des leurs yeux, le feu de leurs joues, 
la gravité de leurs visages, étaient trois chansons ardentes. 
Elles se frôlaient furtivement, 
elles pliaient leurs corps sur les hanches.

Et tout à coup, elles sont tombées, 
pour achever à terre la danse molle... 
Souvenir de Mnasidika, c'est alors que tu m'apparus, 
et tout, hors ta chère image, me fut importun.

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
11. The Memory of Mnasidika
Language: English 
They danced one in front of the other, 
with a rapid and fleeing movement; 
they seemed always to wish to enlace each other, 
and yet they never touched, 
except with the tips of their lips. 

When they turned their backs in dancing, 
they looked at each other, heads on their shoulders, 
and the sweat shone on their raised arms,
and their fine hair flowed across their breasts. 

The languor of their eyes, the fire in their cheeks, 
the seriousness of their faces, were three ardent songs. 
They grazed each other furtively, 
they bent their bodies on their hips. 

And suddenly, they fell, 
to finish the supple dance on the ground ... 
Memory of Mnasidika, it was then that you appeared, 
and everything, other than your image, was unwelcome.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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. La pluie au matin
 (Sung text)
Language: French (Français) 
La nuit s'éfface. Les étoiles s'éloignent.
Voici que les dernières courtisanes 
sont rentrées avec les amants. 
Et moi, dans la pluie du matin, 
j'écris ces vers sur le sable.

Les feuilles sont chargées d'eau brillante. 
Des ruisseaux à travers les sentiers
entraînent la terre et les feuilles mortes.
La pluie, goutte à goutte, 
fait des trous dans ma chanson.

Oh! que je suis triste et seule ici! 
Les plus jeunes ne me regardent pas; 
les plus âgés m'ont oublieé.
C'est bien. Ils apprendront mes vers, 
et les enfants de leurs enfants.

Voilà ce que ni Myrtalê, ni Thaïs, 
ni Glykére ne se diront, 
le jour où leurs belles joues seront creuses.  
Ceux qui aimeront après moi 
chanteront mes strophes ensemble.

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by Pierre-Félix Louis (1870 - 1925), as Pierre Louÿs
12. The Morning Rain
Language: English 
Night is ending. The stars are fading away.
Now the last courtesans have gone in 
with their lovers. 
And I, in the morning rain, 
I am writing these verses in the sand.

The leaves are loaded with shining water. 
Streams across the paths 
carry the earth and the dead leaves. 
The rain, drop by drop, 
is making holes in my song.

Oh, how sad and alone I am here! 
The youngest do not look at me; 
the oldest have forgotten me. It is good. 
They will learn my verses, 
and the children of their children.

There is what neither Myrtalê, nor Thaïs, 
nor Glikéra will say to each other, 
the day when their beautiful cheeks are hollow. 
Those who love after me 
will sing my stanzas together.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Marvin J. Ward, (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 between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 127

Translation © by Marvin J. Ward