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Il pleut. J'entends le bruit égal des eaux; Le feuillage, humble et que nul vent ne berce, Se penche et brille en pleurant sous l'averse; Le deuil de l'air afflige les oiseaux. La bourbe monte et trouble la fontaine, Et le sentier montre à nu ses cailloux. Le sable fume, embaume et devient roux; L'onde à grands flots le sillonne et l'entraîne. Tout l'horizon n'est qu'un blême rideau; La vitre tinte et ruisselle de gouttes; Sur le pavé sonore et bleu des routes Il saute et luit des étincelles d'eau. Le long d'un mur, un chien morne à leur piste, Trottent, mouillés, de grands boeufs en retard; La terre est boue et le ciel est brouillard; L'homme s'ennuie: oh ! que la pluie est triste !
Authorship
- by René-François Sully-Prudhomme (1839 - 1907) [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)
- by Henri Marteau (1874 - 1934), "Pluie", op. 19b no. 1 (c1917) [ voice and piano ], from Huit Mélodies pour chant avec accompagnement de piano, no. 1 [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Michael Berridge) , "Rain", copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor]
Text added to the website: 2018-01-16 00:00:00
Last modified: 2018-01-16 15:12:59
Line count: 16
Word count: 126
The rain falls. I hear the steady beat of the rain; the foliage, modest, with no wind to soothe it, bends down and shines, weeping beneath the downpour; the sombre air saddens the birds. The silt rises and clouds the fountain, and the track is stripped to its stones. The sand swirls, swathes and grows russet; the mighty waves pass over it and carry it away. The horizon is nothing but a filmy curtain; the glass tinkles, running with droplets; On the rumbling blue stones of the road splashes of water dance and sparkle. Along by a wall, a mournful dog at their heels, go the great oxen, soaking wet, delayed; the earth is mud and the sky is grey; men are weary: oh! but the rain is sad!
Authorship
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2020 by Michael Berridge, (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 René-François Sully-Prudhomme (1839 - 1907)
Text added to the website: 2020-01-11 00:00:00
Last modified: 2020-01-11 12:38:07
Line count: 16
Word count: 129