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I cried when the moon was murmuring to the birds, "Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will, I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words, For the roads are unending, and there is no place to my mind." The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleepy hill, And I fell asleep upon lonely Echtge of streams. No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind; The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams. I know of the leafy paths the witches take, Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool, And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake; I know where a dim moon drifts, where the Danaan kind Wind and unwind their dances when the light grows cool On the island lawns, their feet where the pale foam gleams. No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind; The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams. I know of the sleepy country, where swans fly round Coupled with golden chains, and sing as they fly. A king and a queen are wandering there, and the sound Has made them so happy and hopeless, so deaf and so blind With wisdom, they wander till all the years have gone by; I know. and the curlew and peewit on Echtge of streams. No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind; The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.
Confirmed with W. B. Yeats, Later Poems, Macmillan and Co., London, 1926, page 76.
Text Authorship:
- by William Butler Yeats (1865 - 1939), "The withering of the boughs", appears in In the Seven Woods, first published 1903 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Peter Warlock (1894 - 1930), "The withering of the boughs", published 1924 [ tenor solo, flute, English horn and string quartet ], from The Curlew, no. 5 [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Flétrissure des branches", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: David K. Smythe
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 248
J'ai pleuré lorsque la lune murmurait aux oiseaux, « Laisse le vanneau appeler et le courlis crier où ils veulent, Tes mots joyeux et tendres et pathétiques me manquent, Car les routes sont sans fin, et il n'y a pas de place pour mes pensées. » La lune de miel pâle est basse sur la colline somnolente, Et je me suis endormi sur le solitaire Echtge des rivières. Aucune branche ne s'est flétrie à cause du vent d'hiver ; Les branches sont flétries parce que je leur ai dit mes rêves. Je connais les chemins feuillus qu'empruntent les sorcières Qui, avec leurs couronnes de perles et fuseaux de laine Et leur sourire secret, sortent du lac ; Je sais l'endroit où flotte une lune trouble, où les enfants de Dana Enroulent et déroulent leurs danses quand la lumière devient froide Sur l'herbe des îles, leurs pieds sur les lueurs pâles de l'écume. Aucune branche ne s'est flétrie à cause du vent d'hiver ; Les branches sont flétries parce que je leur ai dit mes rêves. Je sais le pays somnolent où volent les cygnes Unis par des chaînes d'or, et qui chantent en volant. Là errent un roi et une reine, et cette musique Les a rendus si heureux et désespérés, si sourds et aveugles Qu'avec sagesse ils errent jusqu'à ce que passent toutes les années ; Je sais, et le vanneau et le courlis sur l'Echtge des rivières . Aucune branche ne s'est flétrie à cause du vent d'hiver ; Les branches sont flétries parce que je leur ai dit mes rêves.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2016 by Pierre Mathé, (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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Based on:
- a text in English by William Butler Yeats (1865 - 1939), "The withering of the boughs", appears in In the Seven Woods, first published 1903
This text was added to the website: 2016-01-04
Line count: 24
Word count: 258