Translation © by Emily Ezust

Phidylé
Language: French (Français) 
Available translation(s): DUT ENG
 L'herbe est molle au sommeil sous les frais peupliers,
   Aux pentes des sources moussues,
 Qui dans les prés en fleur germant par mille issues,
   Se perdent sous les noirs halliers.

 Repose, ô Phidylé ! Midi sur les feuillages
   Rayonne et t'invite au sommeil.
 Par le trèfle et le thym, seules, en plein soleil,
   Chantent les abeilles volages.

 Un chaud parfum circule au détour des sentiers,
   La rouge fleur des blés s'incline,
 Et les oiseaux, rasant de l'aile la colline,
   Cherchent l'ombre des églantiers.

 Les taillis sont muets ; le daim, par les clairières,
   Devant les meutes aux abois
 Ne bondit plus ; Diane, assise au fond des bois,
   Polit ses flèches meurtrières.

 Dors en paix, belle enfant aux rires ingénus,
   Aux nymphes agrestes pareille !
 De ta bouche au miel pur j'écarterai l'abeille,
   Je garantirai tes pieds nus.

 Laisse sur ton épaule et ses formes divines,
   Comme un or fluide et léger,
 Sous mon souffle amoureux courir et voltiger
   L'épaisseur de tes tresses fines !

 Sans troubler ton repos, sur ton front transparent,
   Libre des souples bandelettes,
 J'unirai l'hyacinthe aux pâles violettes,
   Et la rose au myrte odorant.

 Belle comme Érycine aux jardins de Sicile,
   Et plus chère à mon cœur jaloux,
 Repose ! Et j'emplirai du souffle le plus doux
   La flûte à mes lèvres docile.

 Je charmerai les bois, ô blanche Phidylé,
   De ta louange familière ;
 Et les nymphes, au seuil de leurs grottes de lierre,
   En pâliront, le cœur troublé.

 Mais, quand l'Astre, incliné sur sa courbe éclatante,
   Verra ses ardeurs s'apaiser,
 Que ton plus beau sourire et ton meilleur baiser
   Me récompensent de l'attente !

H. Duparc sets stanzas 1-3, 10

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

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

  • DUT Dutch (Nederlands) (Marike Lindhout) , "Phidylé", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (Emily Ezust) , "Phidylé", copyright © 2005


Research team for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 40
Word count: 271

Phidylé
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
The grass is soft for slumber beneath the fresh poplars,
on the slopes by the mossy springs,
which, in the meadows flowering with a thousand plants,
lose themselves under dark thickets.
 
Rest, o Phidylé! the midday sun shines on the foliage
and invites you to sleep!
Among clover and thyme, alone, in full sunlight
hum the fickle honeybees.
 
A warm fragrance circulates about the turning paths,
the red cornflower tilts,
and the birds, skimming the hill with their wings,
search for shade among the wild roses.

The coppices are mute; the deer in the clearing,
cornered by the pack
no longer leaps; Diana, seated in the depths of the woods,
polishes her fatal arrows.

Sleep in peace, beautiful child with the ingenuous smile,
so similar to the rustic nymphs!
From your honey-touched lips I will wave away the bee;
I will guard your bare feet.

On the divine form of your shoulder,
Like gold both liquid and light,
Let my loving breath run and flutter
the thickness of your fine hair!

Without disturbing your sleep, on your clear brow,
free of supple ribbons,
I will chain hyacinth with pale violets,
and the rose with scented myrtle.

As beautiful as Erycine in the gardens of Sicily,
and more dear to my jealous heart,
sleep! And I shall fill with my softest breath
a flute of my flexible lips.

I shall charm the woods, o white Phidylé,
with your intimate praise;
and the nymphs, at the threshold of their caves of ivy,
will blanch, hearts troubled.

But when the sun, turning in its resplendent orbit,
finds its heat abating,
let your loveliest smile and your most ardent kiss
recompense me for waiting!

Authorship

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2005 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 -- https://www.lieder.net/

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


Based on

 

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 40
Word count: 280