by
Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
J'ai l'âme, pour un lit, de regrets si...
Language: French (Français)
J'ai l'âme, pour un lit, de regrets si touchée,
Que nul homme jamais ne fera que j'approche
De la chambre amoureuse, encore moins de la couche
Où je vis ma maîtresse, au mois de Mai couchée.
Un somme languissant la tenait mi-penchée
Dessus le coude droit, fermant sa belle bouche
Et ses yeux, dans lesquels l'archer Amour se couche,
Ayant toujours la flèche à la corde encochée :
Sa tête, en ce beau mois, sans plus, était couverte
D'un riche escofion ouvré de soie verte,
Où les Grâces venaient à l'envie se nicher ;
Puis, en ses beaux cheveux, choisissaient leur demeure.
J'en ai tel souvenir que je voudrais qu'à l'heure
Mon cœur pour n'y penser plus devenu rocher.
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Note: this is a version with modernized spelling.
Text 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 Robert Caby (1905 - 1992), "J'ai l'âme pour un lict de regrets si touchée", 1947 [ voice, piano, and flute ] [sung text not yet checked]
- by Gérard Condé (b. 1947), "J'ai l'âme, pour un lit", 2009, first performed 2010 [ tenor and piano ], from Marie ! Cinq poèmes de Ronsard, no. 5 [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (David Wyatt) , copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2017-02-06
Line count: 14
Word count: 117
My soul, because of a bed, is so...
Language: English after the French (Français)
My soul, because of a bed, is so affected by regrets
That no man will ever make me approach
My love’s bedchamber, still less the couch
On which I saw my mistress lying in May.
She was in a cosy sleep, half-leaning
Upon her right elbow, which held her fair mouth closed
And her eyes, in which Love the archer sleeps
With his arrow always nocked to the bowstring.
Her head was covered in this fair month with nothing more
Than a rich, open head-dress of green silk,
In which the Graces came eagerly to rest,
And then chose to make their home in her fair hair.
So strong is the memory I have, that I wish immediately
My heart, so as not to think of it, had become a rock.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2019 by David Wyatt, (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: 2019-10-30
Line count: 14
Word count: 131