English translation of La mort de l'amour
by Ernest Amédée Chausson (1855 - 1899), "La mort de l'amour", op. 19 no. 2 (1887), published 1893, orchestrated 1893 [ high voice and piano or orchestra ], from Poème de l'Amour et de la Mer, no. 2Note: this is a translation of one multi-text setting.
Bientôt l'île bleue et joyeuse Parmi les rocs m'apparaîtra ; L'île sur l'eau silencieuse Comme un nénuphar flottera. A travers la mer d'améthyste Doucement glisse le bateau, Et je serai joyeux et triste De tant me souvenir -- bientôt.
Text Authorship:
- by Maurice Bouchor (1855 - 1929), "En mer", appears in Les poëmes de l'amour et de la mer, in 2. La mort de l'amour, no. 19, first published 1876
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]Le vent roulait les feuilles mortes ; mes pensées Roulaient comme des feuilles mortes, dans la nuit. Jamais si doucement au ciel noir n'avaient lui Les mille roses d'or d'où tombent les rosées. Une danse effrayante, et les feuilles froissées, Et qui rendaient un son métallique, valsaient, Semblaient gémir sous les étoiles, et disaient L'inexprimable horreur des amours trépassés. Les grands hêtres d'argent que la lune baisait Étaient des spectres : moi, tout mon sang se glaçait En voyant mon aimée étrangement sourire. Comme des fronts de morts nos fronts avaient pâli, Et, muet, me penchant vers elle, je pus lire Ce mot fatal écrit dans ses grands yeux : l'oubli.
Text Authorship:
- by Maurice Bouchor (1855 - 1929), no title, appears in Les poëmes de l'amour et de la mer, in 2. La mort de l'amour, no. 28, first published 1876
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]Le temps des lilas et le temps des roses Ne reviendra plus à ce printemps-ci ; Le temps des lilas et le temps des roses Est passés, le temps des œillets aussi. Le vent a changé, les cieux sont moroses, Et nous n'irons plus courir, et cueillir Les lilas en fleur et les belles roses ; Le printemps est triste et ne peut fleurir. Oh ! joyeux et doux printemps de l'année, Qui vins, l'an passé, nous ensoleiller, Notre fleur d'amour est si bien fanée, Las ! que ton baiser ne peut l'éveiller! Et toi, que fais-tu ? pas de fleurs écloses, Point de gai soleil ni d'ombrages frais ; Le temps des lilas et le temps des roses Avec notre amour est mort à jamais.
Text Authorship:
- by Maurice Bouchor (1855 - 1929), appears in Les poëmes de l'amour et de la mer, in 2. La mort de l'amour, no. 38, first published 1876
See other settings of this text.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]Author(s): Maurice Bouchor (1855 - 1929)
Soon the blue and joyful isle Will appear to me among the rocks; The isle upon the silent water Floats like a water lily. Across the amethyst sea The boat gently glides, And I will be joyful and sad At how much I remember - Soon!
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2011 by Korin Kormick, (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: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Maurice Bouchor (1855 - 1929), "En mer", appears in Les poëmes de l'amour et de la mer, in 2. La mort de l'amour, no. 19, first published 1876
Go to the general single-text view
Translation of title "La mort de l'amour" = "The death of love".
The wind rustled the dead leaves; my thoughts Blew about like dead leaves in the night. Never so sweetly did the black sky contain The thousand golden roses from which dew once fell! A frightening dance, and the crumpled leaves, Which gave forth a metallic sound, waltzed, Seemed to groan under the stars, and spoke The inexpressible horror of deceased loves. The tall silver beeches that the moon kissed Were specters: all my blood froze Seeing my beloved strangely smile. Like the brows of the dead, our foreheads paled, And, mute, leaning towards her, I could read That fatal word inscribed in her wide eyes: oblivion.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2011 by Korin Kormick, (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: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Maurice Bouchor (1855 - 1929), no title, appears in Les poëmes de l'amour et de la mer, in 2. La mort de l'amour, no. 28, first published 1876
Go to the general single-text view
The time of lilacs and the time of roses Will no longer come again to this spring; The time of lilacs and the time of roses Has passed, the time of carnations also. The wind has changed, the skies are morose, And we will no longer run to pick The lilacs in bloom and the beautiful roses; The spring is sad and cannot bloom. Oh! Joyful and gentle spring of the year, That came last year to bathe us in sunlight, Our flower of love is so wilted, Alas! that your kiss cannot awaken it! And you, what are you doing? No budding flowers, No bright sun at all nor cool shade, The time of lilacs and the time of roses, Along with our love, is dead forever.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2006 by Korin Kormick, (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: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Maurice Bouchor (1855 - 1929), appears in Les poëmes de l'amour et de la mer, in 2. La mort de l'amour, no. 38, first published 1876
Go to the general single-text view
Translation © by Korin Kormick