Soir sur la plaine
See originalLanguage: French (Français)
Vers l'occident, là-bas, le ciel est tout en or ;
Le long des prés déserts où le sentier dévale
La pénétrante odeur des foins coupés s'exhale,
Et c'est l'heure émouvante où la terre s'endort.
Las d'avoir, tout un jour, penché mon front qui brûle,
Comme on pose un fardeau, j'ai quitté la maison.
J'ai soif de grande ligne et de vaste horizon,
Et devant moi s'étend la plaine au crépuscule.
Une solennité douce flotte dans l'air ;
Ma poitrine se gonfle au vent rude qui passe ;
Et mon cœur, on dirait, grandit avec l'espace,
Car la plaine infinie est pareille à la mer.
...
L'Angélus au loin sonne, et, simple en son devoir,
La glèbe écoute au ciel tinter la cloche pure,
Et comme une humble vielleuse en sa robe de bure
Semble dire tout bas sa prière du soir.
Note: the text above is taken from stanzas 1-3,5 of the original text.
Confirmed with Albert Victor Samain, Le chariot d'or — symphonie héroïque, Paris: Société du Mercure de France, 1905, pages 45-47.
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Grant Hicks) , "Evening on the Plain", copyright © 2026, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust
[Administrator] , Grant Hicks
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 32
Word count: 269
Language: English after the French (Français)
Over there, towards the west, the sky is all in gold;
Across the empty meadows where the trail descends
Wafts the penetrating scent of cut hay,
And it is the poignant hour when the earth falls asleep.
Weary from bowing, all day, my fevered brow,
As one sets down a burden, I've left home.
I thirst for a grand line and a wide horizon,
And before me stretches the twilit plain.
A sweet solemnity floats in the air,
My chest swells with the harsh wind that passes;
And my heart, it seems, grows with the expanse,
For the infinite plain is like the sea.
...
Far off sounds the Angelus, and, simple in its duty,
The land listens to the pure bell ringing in the sky,
And like a humble viellist in her homespun dress
Seems to murmur its evening prayer.
Note: the text above is taken from stanzas 1-3,5 of the original text.
Note for stanza 5, line 3: the "viellist" of Tournemire's setting is a player of the stringed instrument known in English as a hurdy-gurdy, which employs a hand-cranked rosined wheel to set the strings in motion.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (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.
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This text was added to the website: 2026-03-10
Line count: 32
Word count: 282
