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by Albert Victor Samain (1858 - 1900)
Translation © by Peter Low

Soir
 (Sung text for setting by G. Fauré)
 See original
Language: French (Français) 
Our translations:  CAT ENG
 ... 

Voici que, les jardins de la nuit vont fleurir.
Les lignes, les couleurs, les sons deviennent vagues.
Vois, le dernier rayon agonise à tes bagues.
Ma sœur, n'entends-tu pas quelque chose mourir !...

Mets sur mon front tes mains fraîches comme une eau pure,
Mets sur mes yeux tes mains douces comme des fleurs,
Et que mon âme où vit le goût secret des pleurs.
Soit comme un lys fidèle et pâle à ta ceinture.

C'est la Pitié qui pose ainsi son doigt sur nous ;
Et tout ce que la terre a de soupirs qui montent,
Il semble qu'à mon âme enivré, le racontent
Tes yeux levés au ciel, si tristes et si doux.

Note: the text above is taken from stanzas 7-9 of the original text.

Composition:

    Set to music by Gabriel Fauré (1845 - 1924), "Soir", op. 83 no. 2 (1894), published 1896, stanzas 7-9 [ medium voice and piano or orchestra ]

Text Authorship:

  • by Albert Victor Samain (1858 - 1900), "Elégie", appears in Au jardin de l'Infante, first published 1893

See other settings of this text.

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

  • CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2023, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (Peter Low) , copyright © 2023, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 36
Word count: 310

Evening
 (Sung text translation for setting by G. Fauré)
 See original
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
 ... 

And now the gardens of the night will bloom.
The lines, colours, and sounds become vague.
Look, the final ray touches your rings and expires.
Oh sister, can you not hear something die!...

Place on my forehead your hands like pure water,
place on my eyes your hands sweet as flowers,
and may my soul with its secret taste for tears
be like a pale and faithful lily that you wear.

It is Pity that puts its finger on us thus:
and all of the sighs that rise from the earth
(so thinks my enraptured heart) are retold
by your eyes raised skyward, so sad and so gentle.

Note: the text above is taken from stanzas 7-9 of the original text.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2023 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 Albert Victor Samain (1858 - 1900), "Elégie", appears in Au jardin de l'Infante, first published 1893
    • Go to the text page.

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This text was added to the website: 2023-10-05
Line count: 36
Word count: 319

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This website began in 1995 as a personal project by Emily Ezust, who has been working on it full-time without a salary since 2008. Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation. Your help is greatly appreciated!
–Emily Ezust, Founder

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