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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)
- by Charles Gounod (1818 - 1893), "Chanson arabe", alternate title: "Medjé", CG. 407 (1864), published 1865. [voice and piano] [ sung text verified 1 time]
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 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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- a text in French (Français) by (Paul) Jules Barbier (1825 - 1901)
This text was added to the website: 2018-01-07
Line count: 39
Word count: 203