by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
Translation © by Peter Low

Je n'ai plus que les os, un squelette je...
Language: French (Français) 
Available translation(s): ENG GER GER
Je n'ai plus que les os, un squelette je semble,
décharné, dénervé, démusclé, dépoulpé,
que le trait de la mort sans pardon a frappé.
Je n'ose voir mes bras que de peur je ne tremble.

Apollon et son fils, deux grands maîtres, ensemble
ne me sauraient guérir; leur métier m'a trompé.
Adieu plaisant soleil; mon oeil est étoupé,
mon corps s'en va descendre où tout se désassemble.

Quel ami me voyant en ce point dépouillé
ne remporte au logis un oeil triste et mouillé,
me consolant au lit et me baisant la face,

en essuyant mes yeux par la mort endormis?
Adieu, chers compagnons, adieu mes chers amis,
je m'en vais le premier vous préparer la place.

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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 (Peter Low) , "All I have now is bones", copyright © 2000, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Ingrid Schmithüsen) , "Ich bin nur noch Knochen", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Bin nur noch Knochen", copyright © 2017, (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: 14
Word count: 117

All I have now is bones
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
 All I have now is bones, I look like a skeleton,
 de-fleshed, de-nerved, de-muscled, deprived of pulp,
 struck down by the unforgiving arrow of death.
 I dare not look at my arms lest I shake with fear.
 
 Apollo and Asclepius, two master-physicians combined,
 could not cure me now; their profession has let me down.
 Farewell, pleasant sun; my eyes are blocked up.
 My body is descending to where all comes apart.
 
 What friend who sees me stripped to this extent
 does not head home with sad and tearful eyes,
 after consoling me in bed, kissing my face,
 
 and wiping my eyes which death has put to sleep?
 Farewell, dear companions, farewell, dear friends;
 I'm setting off first to prepare a place for you.

Authorship

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2000 by Peter Low, (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 between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 124