by Armand Silvestre (1837 - 1901)
Translation Singable translation by Samuel Byrne (flourished 1889)

Tu m'as dit
Language: French (Français) 
Tu m'as dit: Mon coeur est souffrant encore
Du dernier amour qui l'avait meurtri;
De nouvelles fleurs ne sauraient éclore
Au triste jardin qu'il a défleuri.
En moi, c'est le soir. Attendons l'aurore!
Tu m'as dit: Mon coeur est souffrant encore.

Tu m'as dit: Qui sait? Peut-être demain,
L'oubli me fera douce ta tendresse
Et nos pas prendront le même chemin:
Et nos fronts rêvant une même ivresse!
A son tour, ma main cherchera ta main.
Tu m'as dit: Qui sait? Peut-être demain!

Tu m'as dit: Attends! Je suis las d'attendre.
L'aurore a brillé, demain est venu!
Aucun mot d'espoir ne s'y fait entendre,
Et ton coeur, gardant son mal inconnu,
A ses seuls regrets, est demeuré tendre.
Tu m'as dit: Attends! Je suis las d'attendre.

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 [singable] (Samuel Byrne) , "You told me so"


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 126

You told me so
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
This you said: My heart remains still afflicted
By the latest love by which it was bruised;
No new flow'rs can grow in this plot destroyed
By his cruel feet that have trampl'd it o'er.
I muse: It is night; let us wait for dawn!
This you said: My heart remains still afflicted.

This you said: Who knows? Tomorrow perhaps,
For me oblivion will endear your fondness
And our feet will tread the self-same old path;
And our dreams be filled with the same delight!
In its turn, my hand will seek out your hand.
This you said: Who knows? Tomorrow perhaps.

This you said: Wait! Wait! I am tired of waiting.
The dawn has arrived, tomorrow has come!
Not a word of hope is there to be heard,
And thy heart, that keeps its unknown misfortune,
To its vain regret, is still filled with kindness.
This you said: Wait! Wait! I am weary waiting.

From the Lavigne score.

Authorship

Based on

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

    [ None yet in the database ]


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 155