When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love hath fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
Composition:
Set to music by Ian Venables (b. 1955), "When you are Old", op. 38 no. 5 (2006), first performed 2006 [ tenor, clarinet, piano ], from On The Wings of Love, no. 5
Text Authorship:
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CHI Chinese (中文) [singable] (Dr Huaixing Wang) , copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (Walter A. Aue) , "Wenn Du alt bist", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- HUN Hungarian (Magyar) (Tamás Rédey) , copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , "Quando ormai sarai vecchia, e grigia e sonnolenta", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Garth Baxter
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 102
Quand vous serez vieille et grise et pleine de sommeil,
Et dodelinerez près du feu, prenez ce livre,
Et lisez lentement, et rêvez au regard doux
Qu'avaient jadis vos yeux, et à leur ombre profonde ;
Combien ont aimé vos moments de grâce bienheureuse,
Et aimèrent votre beauté, d'un amour vrai ou feint,
Mais un seul homme a aimé en vous l'âme voyageuse,
Et aimé la tristesse sur votre visage changeant ;
Et inclinée vers la grille rougeoyante,
Murmurez, un peu triste, comment l'amour a fui
Et a enjambé les montagnes au-dessus de nos têtes
Et caché son visage parmi une multitude d'étoiles.
