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

Puisque vous adorez les fleurs
Language: French (Français) 
Puisque vous adorez les fleurs,
Songez que l'heure vient, Madame,
Où les roses n'auront plus d'âme
Et les iris plus de couleurs.
Avant qu'un souffle monotone
Ait penché les derniers gazons
Sous l'or pâli des frondaisons,
Aimons, aimons au temps d'automne!

Puisque vous vous plaisez aux chants
Que dans l'azur l'oiseau balance,
Songez que l'ombre et le silence
Descendent des coteaux penchants.
Le vin qui bruit dans la tonne
Dit un dernier hymne au soleil:
Sous le couchant encor vermeil
Aimons, aimons au temps d'automne.

Puisque vous savez qu'il n'est qu'heur
Et malheur dans la destinée,
Mais qu'une douceur est donnée
Aux chères tortures du coeur,
Avant que le nôtre s'étonne
De ne plus savoir en souffrir,
Pour qu'il se garde de guérir
Aimons, aimons au temps d'automne!

About the headline (FAQ)

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) , "Autumn days"


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 128

Autumn days
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
Since flowers you, dear lady, love,
Remember that the time draws near,
When roses shall not blossom more,
And lilies, too, shall cease to bloom.
Before the wintry winds have blown
Across the meadows soft and green,
And caused the yellow leaves to fall
Let's love, let's love while autumn lingers!

Since you enjoy the melodies
With which the birds the air are filling,
Remember gloom and silence dreary
Come down the slopes of lofty hills;
The wine that gurgles in the barrel
Bids a last farewell to the sun,
That sinks in ruby glow to rest.
Let's love, let's love while autumn lingers.

Since you know well, our destiny
On earth depends on chance alone,
But that a pleasure is decreed
To the sweet tortures of the heart,
Before those torments we experience
Without the sweetness with them blent
That helps us all to bear the pain
Let's love, let's love while autumn lingers!

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: 24
Word count: 155