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Far are the shades of Arabia, Where the Princes ride at noon, 'Mid the verdurous vales and thickets, Under the ghost of the moon; And so dark is that vaulted purple Flowers in the forest rise And toss into blossom 'gainst the phantom stars Pale in the noonday skies. Sweet is the music of Arabia In my heart, when out of dreams I still in the thin clear mirk of dawn Descry her gliding streams; Hear her strange lutes on the green banks Ring loud with the grief and delight Of the dim-silked, dark-haired Musicians In the brooding silence of night. They haunt me - her lutes and her forests: No beauty on earth I see But shadowed with that dream recalls Her loveliness to me: Still eyes look coldly upon me, Cold voices whisper and say - "He is crazed with the spell of far Arabia, They have stolen his wits away."
Authorship
- by Walter De la Mare (1873 - 1956), appears in The Listeners and Other Poems, first published 1912 [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 William Denis Browne (1888 - 1915), "Arabia", 1914 [voice and piano], published in the Monthly Chapbook, December 1919 [ sung text verified 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Tim Palmer) , title 1: "L’Arabie", copyright © 2017, (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: 24
Word count: 153
Loin sont les ombres de l’Arabie, où les Princes montent à cheval à midi, parmi les vallées vertes et les halliers, sous le fântome de la lune; et cette pourpre voûtée est tellement sombre les fleurs dans la forêt poussent et fleurissent contre les étoiles fântomes pâles sous les cieux de midi. Douce est la musique d’Arabie dans mon cœur, quand sorti de rêves immobile dans la légère claire obscurité de l’aube j’aperçois ses ruisseaux glissants; écoutez ses luths étranges sur les rives vertes sonnent forts avec le chagrin et le grand plaisir des musiciens à cheveux foncés en soie sombre dans le silence troublant de la nuit. Ils me hantent – ses luths et ses forêts ; je vois aucune beauté sur la terre mais ombragé avec ce rêve me rappele sa charme ; Les yeux immobiles me regardent froidement, Les voix froides murmurent et disent « il est rendu fou par le sortilège de l’Arabie, ils ont volé sa sagesse. »
Authorship
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2017 by Tim Palmer, (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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- a text in English by Walter De la Mare (1873 - 1956), appears in The Listeners and Other Poems, first published 1912
This text was added to the website: 2017-07-08
Line count: 24
Word count: 163