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De mon berger volage J'entends le flageolet. De ce nouvel hommage Je ne suis plus l'objet; Je l'entends qui fredonne Pour une autre que moi. Hélas! que j'étais bonne De lui donner ma foi! Autrefois l'infidèle Faisait dire aux échos Que j'étais la plus belle Des filles du hameau; Que j'étais sa bergère, Qu'il était mon berger; Que je serais légère Sans qu'il devînt léger. Un jour, c'était ma fête, Il vint de grand matin; De fleurs ornant ma tête, Il plaignait son destin. Il dit: "Veux-tu, cruelle, Jouir de mes tourments?" Je dis: "Sois-moi fidèle, Et laisse faire au temps!" Le printemps qui vit naître Des volages ardeurs Les a vu disparaître Aussitôt que les fleurs; Mais, s?il ramène à Flore Les inconstants zéphirs, Ne pourrait-il encore Ramener ses désirs, Ramener ses désirs?
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author ( Mme. **** )  [author's text not yet checked 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)
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Garrett Medlock) , "The chagrin of the shepherdess", copyright © 2019, (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: 33
Word count: 134
From my fickle shepherd I hear the flageolet. Of this new tribute I am no longer the object; I hear it humming For someone other than me. Alas! how good I was To give him my faith! In the past the unfaithful one Made to echo [out] That I was the most beautiful Of the girls in the hamlet; That I was his shepherdess, That he was my shepherd; That I could be fickle Without him becoming fickle. One day it was my birthday, He came early in the morning; Flowers adorned my head, He bemoaned his fate. He said: “Would you like, cruel one, To enjoy my torments?” I said: “Be faithful to me, And leave it to time!” The spring that was born Of fiery flights Saw them disappear As soon as the flowers; But, if he gives back to Flore The inconstant zephyrs, Could he not still Bring back his desires?
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2019 by Garrett Medlock, (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.
This text was added to the website: 2019-01-08
Line count: 32
Word count: 154