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Forgotten Ariettes
Song Cycle by Claude Achille Debussy (1862 - 1918)
View original-language texts alone: Ariettes oubliées
C'est l'extase langoureuse, C'est la fatigue amoureuse, C'est tous les frissons des bois Parmi l'étreinte des brises, C'est vers les ramures grises Le choeur des petites voix. O le frêle et frais murmure ! Cela gazouille et susurre, Cela ressemble au [cri]1 doux Que l'herbe agitée expire... Tu dirais, sous l'eau qui vire, Le roulis sourd des cailloux. Cette âme qui se lamente [En]2 cette plainte dormante C'est la nôtre, n'est-ce pas ? La mienne, dis, et la tienne, Dont s'exhale l'humble antienne Par ce tiède soir, tout bas ?
Authorship:
- by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Romances sans paroles, in Ariettes oubliées, no. 1, first published 1872
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) [singable] (Núria Colomer) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- CHI Chinese (中文) [singable] (Dr Huaixing Wang) , copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Emily Ezust) , "It is the langorous ecstasy", copyright ©
- GER German (Deutsch) (Pierre Mathé) , "Es ist die verführerische Verzückung", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Mónica Luz Alvarez Jiménez) , no title, copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
1 Fauré: "bruit"
2 Fauré: "Et"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
It is the langorous ecstasy, It is the fatigue after love, It is all the rustling of the wood, In the embrace of breezes; It is near the gray branches: A chorus of tiny voices. Oh, what a frail and fresh murmur! It babbles and whispers, It resembles the soft noise That waving grass exhales. You might say it were, under the bending stream, The muffled sound of rolling pebbles. This soul, which laments And this dormant moan, It is ours, is it not? Is it [not] mine[?] -- tell [me] -- and yours, Whose humble anthem we breathe On this mild evening, so very quietly?
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © by Emily Ezust
Emily Ezust permits her translations to be reproduced without prior permission for printed (not online) programs to free-admission concerts only, provided the following credit is given:
Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/For any other purpose, please write to the e-mail address below to request permission and discuss possible fees.
licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Romances sans paroles, in Ariettes oubliées, no. 1, first published 1872
Go to the single-text view
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 104
Il [pleure]1 dans mon cœur Comme il pleut sur la ville ; Quelle est cette langueur Qui pénètre mon cœur ? Ô bruit doux de la pluie, Par terre et sur les toits ! Pour un cœur qui s'ennuie, Ô le [chant]2 de la pluie ! Il pleure sans raison Dans [ce]3 cœur qui s'écœure. Quoi ! nulle trahison ? ... [Ce]4 deuil est sans raison. C'est bien la pire peine, De ne savoir pourquoi... Sans amour et sans haine Mon cœur a tant de peine !
Authorship:
- by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Romances sans paroles, in Ariettes oubliées, no. 3, Sens, Typographie de Maurice L'Hermite, first published 1874
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) [singable] (Núria Colomer) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- DUT Dutch (Nederlands) (Lidy van Noordenburg) , copyright © 2023, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Peter Low) , "There is weeping in my heart", copyright © 2000, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Thomas Ang) , "In my heart it weeps", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Es weint in meinem Herzen", copyright © 2005, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Pierre Mathé) , "Es weint in meinem Herz", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Elisa Rapado) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
1 Rostand: "pleut"
2 Debussy: "bruit"
3 Fauré, Rostand: "mon"; Madetoja: "le"
4 Fauré, Rostand: "Mon"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
There is weeping in my heart like the rain falling on the town. What is this languor that pervades my heart? Oh the patter of the rain on the ground and the roofs! For a heart growing weary oh the song of the rain! There is weeping without cause in this disheartened heart. What! No betrayal? There's no reason for this grief. Truly the worst pain is not knowing why, without love or hatred, my heart feels so much pain.
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2000 by Peter Low, (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 Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Romances sans paroles, in Ariettes oubliées, no. 3, Sens, Typographie de Maurice L'Hermite, first published 1874
Go to the single-text view
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 81
L'ombre des arbres dans la rivière embrumée Meurt comme de la fumée, Tandis qu'en l'air, parmi les ramures réelles, Se plaignent les tourterelles. Combien, ô voyageur, ce paysage blême Te mira blême toi-même, Et que tristes pleuraient dans les hautes feuillées, - Tes espérances noyées.
Authorship:
- by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Romances sans paroles, in Ariettes oubliées, no. 9, first published 1872
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) [singable] (Núria Colomer) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Peter Low) , "The shadow of the trees in the misty river", copyright © 2000, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Der Bäume Schatten", copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Stefan George) , no title, appears in Zeitgenössische Dichter, in Frankreich, in Paul Verlaine, in Aus: Lieder ohne Worte, in Vergessene Weisen, no. 9
- GER German (Deutsch) (Dr Huaixing Wang) , copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
The shadow of the trees in the misty river fades and dies like smoke; while above, among the real branches, the doves are lamenting. Oh traveler, how well this pale landscape mirrored you pallid self! And how sadly, in the high foliage, your hopes were weeping, your hopes that are drowned.
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2000 by Peter Low, (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 Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Romances sans paroles, in Ariettes oubliées, no. 9, first published 1872
Go to the single-text view
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 52
Tournez, tournez, bons chevaux de bois,
Tournez cent tours, tournez mille tours,
Tournez souvent et tournez toujours,
Tournez, tournez au son des hautbois.
L'enfant tout rouge et la mère blanche,
Le gars en noir et la fille en rose,
L'une à la chose et l'autre à la pose,
Chacun se paie un sou de dimanche.
Tournez, tournez, chevaux de leur cœur,
Tandis qu'autour de tous vos tournois
Clignote l'œil du filou sournois,
Tournez au son du piston vainqueur !
C'est étonnant comme ça vous soûle
D'aller ainsi dans ce cirque bête
[Bien]1 dans le ventre et mal dans la tête,
Du mal en masse et du bien en foule.
Tournez, dadas, sans qu'il soit besoin
D'user jamais de nuls éperons
Pour commander à vos galops ronds
Tournez, tournez, sans espoir de foin.
[ ... ]
Et dépêchez, chevaux de leur âme
Déjà voici que sonne à la soupe
La nuit qui tombe et chasse la troupe
De gais buveurs que leur soif affame.
Tournez, tournez ! Le ciel en velours
D'astres en or se vêt lentement.
L'église tinte un glas tristement.
Tournez au son joyeux des tambours !
Authorship:
- by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Sagesse, in Sagesse III, no. 17
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (John Glenn Paton) , "Turn, turn, good horses of wood", copyright © 2000, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
See also the very similar "Chevaux de bois" in Romances sans paroles.
1 Debussy: "Rien"Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Turn, turn, good horses of wood, turn a hundred turns, turn a thousand turns, turn often and turn always, turn, turn to the sound of the oboes. The red-faced child and pale mother, the boy in black and the girl in pink, the one pursuing and the other posing, each getting a penny's worth of Sunday fun. Turn, turn, horses of their hearts, while all around your turning squints the sly pickpocket's eye -- turn to the sound of the victorious cornet. It is astonishing how it intoxicates you to go around this way in a stupid circle, [plenty]1 in the tummy and aching in the head, very sick and having lots of fun. Turn, turn! The velvet sky is slowly clothed with golden stars. The church bell tolls sadly. Turn, to the happy sound of drums.
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2000 by John Glenn Paton, (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 Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Sagesse, in Sagesse III, no. 17
Go to the single-text view
View original text (without footnotes)1 Debussy: "nothing"
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 28
Word count: 186
Voici des fruits, des fleurs, des feuilles et des branches Et puis voici mon cœur qui ne bat que pour vous. Ne le déchirez pas avec vos deux mains blanches Et qu'à vos yeux si beaux l'humble présent soit doux. J'arrive tout couvert encore de rosée Que le vent du matin vient glacer à mon front. Souffrez que ma fatigue, à vos pieds reposée, Rêve des chers instants qui la délasseront. Sur votre jeune sein laissez rouler ma tête Toute sonore encore de vos derniers baisers ; Laissez-la s'apaiser de la bonne tempête, Et que je dorme un peu puisque vous reposez.
Authorship:
- by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), "Green", appears in Romances sans paroles, in Aquarelles, no. 1, first published 1872
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) [singable] (Núria Colomer) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- CHI Chinese (中文) [singable] (Dr Huaixing Wang) , copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Emily Ezust) , no title, copyright ©
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Green", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- POL Polish (Polski) (Bronisława Ostrowska) , "Green", Kraków, first published 1911
Here are some fruit, some flowers, some leaves and some branches, And then here is my heart, which beats only for you. Do not rip it up with your two white hands, And may the humble present be sweet in your beautiful eyes! I arrive all coverered in dew, Which the wind of morning comes to freeze on my forehead. Suffer my fatigue as I repose at your feet, Dreaming of dear instants that will refresh me. On your young breast allow my head to rest, Still ringing with your last kisses; Let it calm itself after the pleasant tempest, And let me sleep a little, since you are resting.
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © by Emily Ezust
Emily Ezust permits her translations to be reproduced without prior permission for printed (not online) programs to free-admission concerts only, provided the following credit is given:
Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/For any other purpose, please write to the e-mail address below to request permission and discuss possible fees.
licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), "Green", appears in Romances sans paroles, in Aquarelles, no. 1, first published 1872
Go to the single-text view
Translations of titles
"Green" = "Green"
"Voici des fruits" = "Here are some fruit"
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 110
Les roses étaient toutes rouges Et les lierres étaient tout noirs. Chère, pour peu que tu te bouges Renaissent tous mes désespoirs. Le ciel était [trop bleu, trop tendre,]1 La mer trop [verte et l'air trop doux.]2 Je crains toujours, -- ce qu'est d'attendre Quelque fuite atroce de vous. Du houx à la feuille vernie Et du luisant buis je suis las, Et de la campagne infinie Et de tout, fors de vous, hélas !
Authorship:
- by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), "Spleen", appears in Romances sans paroles, in Aquarelles, no. 2
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) [singable] (Núria Colomer) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Corinne Orde) , "Spleen", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
1 Phaneuf (Dela): "si bleu, si tendre"
2 Phaneuf (Dela): "verte, l'air si doux!"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Around were all the roses red The ivy all around was black. Dear, so thou only move thine head, Shall all mine old despairs awake! Too blue, too tender was the sky, The air too soft, too green the sea. Always I fear, I know not why, Some lamentable flight from thee. I am so tired of holly-sprays And weary of the bright box-tree, Of all the endless country ways; Of everything alas! save thee.
Authorship:
- by Ernest Christopher Dowson (1867 - 1900), no title, appears in Decorations, in After Paul Verlaine, no. 3, first published 1899
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), "Spleen", appears in Romances sans paroles, in Aquarelles, no. 2
Go to the single-text view
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2003-12-02
Line count: 12
Word count: 75