Language: French (Français)
Madrid, princesse des Espagnes,
Il court par tes mille campagnes
Bien des yeux bleus, bien des yeux noirs.
La blanche ville aux sérénades,
Il passe par tes promenades
Bien des petits pieds tous les soirs.
Madrid, quand tes taureaux bondissent,
Bien des mains blanches applaudissent,
Bien des écharpes sont en jeux;
Par tes belles nuits étoilées,
Bien des señoras long voilées
Descendent tes escaliers bleus.
Madrid, Madrid, moi, je me raille
De tes dames à fine taille
Qui chaussent l'escarpin étroit;
Car j'en sais une, par le monde,
Que jamais ni brune ni blonde
N'ont valu le bout de son doigt!
...
Car c'est ma princesse Andalouse!
Mon amoureuse, ma jalouse,
Ma belle veuve au long réseau!
C'est un vrai démon, c'est un ange!
Elle est jaune comme une orange,
Elle est vive comme l'oiseau!
...
Or, si d'aventure on s'enquête
Qui m'a valu telle conquête,
C'est l'allure de mon cheval,
Un compliment sur sa mantille
Puis des bonbons à la vanille
Par un beau soir de carnaval.
Note: the text above is taken from stanzas 1-3,5,7 of the original text.
Composition:
Set to music by Pauline Viardot-García (1821 - 1910), "Madrid", VWV 1136, published 1887, stanzas 1-3,5,7 [ medium voice and piano ], from Six mélodies, no. 5, Éd. "Au Ménestrel", Henri Heugel
Text Authorship:
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English [singable] (Amanda Cole) , "Madrid", copyright © 2007, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: John Versmoren
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 42
Word count: 240
Language: English after the French (Français)
Madrid, princess of all the Spains
Many a blue eye, many a black,
runs through your myriad lands.
The white city of serenades,
Many little feet pass
through your promenades every night.
Madrid, when your bulls are bounding,
Many a white hand applauds.
Many banners are streaming;
On your beautiful starry nights,
Many a long-veiled señora strolls
Down your blue staircases.
Madrid, Madrid, I laugh at
Your well dressed women
Shod in such narrow heels;
Because I know that none in all the world,
Neither brunette nor blonde,
is worth even the tip of her finger.
...
Now, if you want to know
How I made this conquest,
It was the allure of my horse,
A compliment on her mantilla
And some vanilla bonbons we shared
On a beautiful evening of carnival.
...
Note: the text above is taken from stanzas 1-3,5,7 of the original text.
Text Authorship:
- Singable translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2007 by Amanda Cole, (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:
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website: 2007-07-07
Line count: 30
Word count: 163
