by (Paul) Jules Barbier (1825 - 1901)
Translation © by Laura Prichard

O Medjé, qui d'un sourire
Language: French (Français) 
Available translation(s): ENG GER
O Medjé, qui d'un sourire
Enchaînas ma liberté,
Sois fière de ton empire,
Commande à ma volonté.
Naguère encor, sans entraves,
Comme l'oiseau dans les airs,
Ton regard a fait esclave
Le libre enfant des déserts.
Medjé! Medjé!
La voix de l'amour même
Devrait te désarmer!
Hélas! Tu doutes que je t'aime
Quand je meurs de t'aimer!

Ces bijoux que l'on t'envie,
J'ai vendu pour les payer,
Ingrate, plus que ma vie
Mes armes et mon coursier!
Et tu demandes quels charmes
Tiennent mon coeur enivré?
Tu n'as donc pas vu ses larmes?
Toute la nuit j'ai pleuré!
Medjé! Medjé!
Les pleurs de l'amour même
Devraient te désarmer!
Hélas! Tu doutes que je t'aime
Quand je meurs de t'aimer!

Tu veux lire dans mon âme
Pour y voir ton nom vainqueur!
Eh bien! prends donc cette lame
Et plonge là dans mon coeur!
Regarde sans épouvante
Et sans regrets superflus
Ton image encor vivante
Dans ce coeur qui ne bat plus!
Medjé! Medjé!
Le sang de l'amour même
Devrait te désarmer!
Hélas! Tu doutes que je t'aime
Quand je meurs de t'aimer!

About the headline (FAQ)

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):

  • ENG English (Laura Prichard) , copyright © 2018, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Linda Godry) , "Medjé", copyright © 2008, (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: 39
Word count: 182

Oh Medjé, who with a smile
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
Oh Medjé, who with a smile
Shackles my freedom,
Be proud of your empire,
Command my will.
Until recently, without hindrance,
like a bird in the air,
One look from you made a slave of
This free child of the desert.
Medjé! Medjé!
The voice of love itself
Should disarm you!
Alas! You doubt that I love you
When I’m dying from loving you!

For these jewels that we all envy,
What I sold to pay for them,
Ingrate, was more than my life was worth:
My weapons and my charger!
And you have the nerve to ask what charms
Keep my heart intoxicated?
Didn't you see its tears?
I cried all night!
Medjé! Medjé!
The tears of love itself
Should disarm you!
Alas! You doubt that I love you
When I’m dying from loving you!

You want to read my soul
And to see your name there as “conqueror”!
Well, fine! Just take this blade
And plunge it into my heart!
Look without terror
And without superfluous regret
Your image lives on
In this heart that beats no more!
Medjé! Medjé!
The blood of love itself
Should disarm you!
Alas! You doubt that I love you
When I’m dying from loving you!

About the headline (FAQ)

Authorship

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2018 by Laura Prichard, (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

 

This text was added to the website: 2018-01-07
Line count: 39
Word count: 203