by Pierre-Jules-Théophile Gautier (1811 - 1872)
Translation © by Emily Ezust

Villanelle
 (Sung text for setting by P. Viardot)
 See original
Language: French (Français) 
Our translations:  CAT ENG ENG FRI GER GER ITA
Quand viendra la saison nouvelle,
Quand auront disparu les froids,
Tous les deux, nous irons, ma belle,
Pour cueillir le muguet au bois;
Sous nos pieds égrenant les perles
Que l'on voit, au matin trembler,
Nous irons écouter les merles 
     Siffler.

Le printemps est venu, ma belle;
C'est le mois des amants béni;
Et l'oiseau, satinant son aile,
Dit des vers au rebord du nid.
Ah !  viens donc sur ce banc de mousse
Pour parler de nos beaux amours,
Et dis-moi de ta voix si douce: 
    «Toujours !»

 ...

Note: the text above is taken from stanzas 1-2 of the original text.

Composition:

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2022, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English [singable] (Samuel Byrne) , "Villanelle"
  • ENG English [singable] (Shula Keller) , "Villanelle", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (Emily Ezust) , copyright © 2015
  • FRI Frisian (Geart van der Meer) , "Villanelle", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Nele Gramß) , "Villanelle", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2018, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , "Contadinella", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Pierre Mathé [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 135

Language: English  after the French (Français) 
When the new season arrives,
When the cold is gone,
Together we will go, my lovely,
To gather lilies of the valley in the woods;
Strewing beneath our feet the pearls
We see trembling each morning,
We shall go to listen to the blackbirds
   Singing!

Spring has come, my lovely;
This is the month most blessed by lovers;
And the bird, preening its wings until they are like satin,
Recites some lines at the edge of its nest.
Oh! Come then onto the mossy bank
To speak of our beautiful loves,
And tell me in your voice so soft:
    Forever!

 ...

Note: the text above is taken from stanzas 1-2 of the original text.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2015 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

    For any other purpose, please write to the e-mail address below to request permission and discuss possible fees.


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This text was added to the website: 2015-01-28
Line count: 24
Word count: 155