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À Nellie
Translations © by Jean-Pierre Granger
Song Cycle by Isaac Albéniz (1860 - 1909)
View original-language texts alone: To Nellie
Home is not home when thou art gone ! My heart in blindness seems to grope; Where love's accustomed light has shone 'Tis dark as disappointed hope, When thou art gone. The oft appeal, the quick reply, Still more, maybe, the silent sense Of sympathy, when thou art by, These, these are Home! And they are hence, When thou art gone.
Text Authorship:
- by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
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Chez-nous, ce n'est plus chez-nous quand tu es partie ! Mon cœur aveuglé cherche à tâton ; Là où la clarté habituelle de l'amour a brillé, C'est aussi sombre qu'un espoir déçu, Lorsque tu es partie. L'appel fréquent, la réplique vive, Encore plus, peut-être, l'impression silencieuse De sympathie quand tu es auprès de nous, C'est cela, notre maison ! Et ils n'y sont plus, Quand tu es partie.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2009 by Jean-Pierre Granger.
This author's work falls under the CC BY-SA 2.0 license.
Jean-Pierre Granger. We have no current contact information for the copyright-holder.
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
Go to the general single-text view
The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2009-11-19
Line count: 11
Word count: 65
Wear not the rubies that I gave Like wine, a glow with lurid heats; But diamonds whiter than the wave That down the northern channel beats. Press pallid jewels to thy breast; For they are free from dangerous fires; They are not reddened with unrest, Nor fierce unsatisfied desires. Keep thine affection free from blame; Austere, yet ardent purely shine; To set thy crystal heart aflame Shall never be a sin of mine
Text Authorship:
- by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
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Ne porte pas les rubis que je t'ai offert Qui, comme du vin, flambe d'un éclat criard; Mais des diamants plus blanc que la vague qui s'abat dans les canaux du nord. Dépose sur ton sein des joyaux livides Car ils sont exempts des feux redoutables ; Ils ne rougissent pas de honte, ni d'intenses désirs insatisfaits. Garde libres de tout blâme, tes sentiments Qui, autères, brillent pourtant d'une ardeur pure ; D'enflammer ton cœur de cristal Est un péché que jamais je ne commettrai.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2009 by Jean-Pierre Granger.
This author's work falls under the CC BY-SA 2.0 license.
Jean-Pierre Granger. We have no current contact information for the copyright-holder.
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
Go to the general single-text view
The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2009-11-19
Line count: 12
Word count: 83
Rainbow showers of sunlight falling Tint the dew on every spray! Loud across the valley calling, Hark the jolly cuckoo's lay! Children, bringing Wreaths, are singing "Come away!" Meadows now are primrose spangled; Holly laughs no more at may; Rills, no more by winter tangled, Rippling down the coppice play! Maids are maying, Boys are straying! Come away! Holt and hurst, to spring awaking, Birds in rapturous roundelay, Sing you shame for money making, Losing for the World Today! Leave your labours, Careful neighbours! Come away!
Text Authorship:
- by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
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La clarté du soleil tombe comme une pluie d'arc-en-ciel, Et colore chaque goutelette de rosée. Appelant bruyamment à travers la vallée Écoutez la joyeuse ritournelle du coucou ! Les enfants, apportant des couronnes, chantent : » Partons « Les primeroses illuminent les prés Le houx ne rit plus en mai ; Les ruisseaux ne sont plus tordus par l'hiver, Les bosquets ondoyants s'amusent ! Les filles célèbrent le mois de mai Les garçons sont volages ! Partons ! Buissons et arbustes s'éveillent au printemps, Les oiseaux dans des voltiges frénétiques Chantent à vous faire honte de votre cupidité En vous damnant pour le monde d'aujourd'hui. Laissez vos travaux, Voisins consciencieux ! Partons !
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2010 by Jean-Pierre Granger.
This author's work falls under the CC BY-SA 2.0 license.
Jean-Pierre Granger. We have no current contact information for the copyright-holder.
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
Go to the general single-text view
The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2010-10-21
Line count: 21
Word count: 106
I ask thee for a kiss no more. As once I ask (and not in vain); For now thy spirit I adore, To wed thy spirit I am fain. Thy face is fair, thine eyes are fond Thy form was cast in beauty's mould; But far beneath, or far beyond, Dwells she, whom I would fain enfold: She tends a shrine of vestal fire, A fount of virgin fancy sips; Immured from intimate desire, She hides her heart and locks her lips. Mock me no more, but let us wed! Come forth, come forth, secluded bride! No other way, when we are dead, Shall we rejoice that we have died.
Text Authorship:
- by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
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Je ne te demanderai plus un baiser, Comme je l'ai autrefois demandé (et non en vain) ; Car l'âme que j'adore maintenant, À cette âme je veux m'unir volontiers. Ton visage est doux, tes yeux tendres, Ton corps fut coulé dans le moule de la beauté ; Mais bien en-dessous, ou bien au-delà, Habite celle que je veux tant étreindre. Vestale, elle entretient le feu du sanctuaire, Une fontaine aux eaux chastes et précieuses ; Isolée des désirs intimes, Elle voile son amour et garde sa bouche close. Ne me raille plus, mais épouse-moi ! Approche-toi, approche-toi, fiancée recluse ! D'aucune autre façon, lorsque nous seront mort, Pourrons-nous nous réjouir d'être mort.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2009 by Jean-Pierre Granger.
This author's work falls under the CC BY-SA 2.0 license.
Jean-Pierre Granger. We have no current contact information for the copyright-holder.
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
Go to the general single-text view
The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2009-11-19
Line count: 16
Word count: 107
Again, dear heart, we snatch an hour From Time, who grudges bliss; Thy lips unfold, like morning flower, To pout the promised kiss! Deep hues arise within thine eyes; Love's soft suffusion stealing, Fills all thy face with tender grace And all thy form with feeling. Beside thee I can still forget Life's purposes, how vain; The force that dissipates in fret; The disproportioned pain: Who so may preach, can never reach (Too careful comfort doling), The soothing power of one dear hour Of thy complete consoling.
Text Authorship:
- by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
Go to the general single-text view
Encore, cher coeur, nous arrachons une heure Au Temps, qui dédaigne la félicité ; Tes lèvres se déplient comme une fleur au matin, Et fait la moue au baiser promis ! Un coloris intense apparaît dans tes yeux Dérobant la douce infusion de l'amour, Inonde ton visage d'une tendre grace Et tout ton corps d'émotions. Auprès de toi je peux encore oublier Combien de la vie, futile est la finalité ; La force qui se dissipe anxieusement ; La douleur disproportionnée. Qui peut si bien prêcher, ne peut jamais atteindre (réclamant un confort trop soigné) Le pouvoir apaisant d'une heure précieuse De ton entière présence réconfortante.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2009 by Jean-Pierre Granger.
This author's work falls under the CC BY-SA 2.0 license.
Jean-Pierre Granger. We have no current contact information for the copyright-holder.
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
Go to the general single-text view
The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2009-11-19
Line count: 16
Word count: 102
Love comes to all ! When will he come to me? Love be kind! Let her be fair and let her be tall, Let her laugh merrily! Love, be kind! Love comes to all! So she is fair to me, Never mind! Let her seem fair, and fair must befall! We shall live merrily! Love is blind. Love comes to all! Love, when you come to me, Be not blind! Let her be fair and let her be tall, Let her laugh merrily! Love, be kind!
Text Authorship:
- by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
Go to the general single-text view
L'amour arrive à tout le monde! Quand donc viendra-t-il vers moi ? Amour, sois bon ! Fait qu'elle soit belle et fait qu'elle soit grande, Fait qu'elle puisse rire joyeusement ! Amour, sois bon ! L'amour arrive à tout le monde ! Elle est donc belle pour moi, Peu importe ! Fait qu'elle semble belle ; et la beauté arrivera ! Nous vivrons joyeusement ! L'amour est aveugle. L'amour arrive à tout le monde ! Amour, quand tu viendras vers moi, Ne sois pas aveugle ! Fait qu'elle soit belle et fait qu'elle soit grande Fait qu'elle puisse rire joyeusement ! Amour, sois bon !
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2009 by Jean-Pierre Granger.
This author's work falls under the CC BY-SA 2.0 license.
Jean-Pierre Granger. We have no current contact information for the copyright-holder.
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
Go to the general single-text view
The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2009-11-19
Line count: 18
Word count: 93