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Quand la nuit verse sa tristesse au firmament, Et que, pâle au balcon, de ton calme visage Le signe essentiel hors du temps se dégage, Ce qui t'adore en moi s'émeut profondément. C'est l'heure de pensée où s'allument les lampes. La ville, où peu à peu toute rumeur s'éteint, Déserte, se recule en un vague lointain Et prend cette douceur des anciennes estampes. Graves, nous nous taisons. Un mot tombe parfois, Fragile pont où l'âme à l'âme communique. Le ciel se décolore ; et c'est un charme unique Cette fuite du temps, il semble, entre nos doigts. Je resterais ainsi des heures, des années, Sans épuiser jamais la douceur de sentir Ta tête aux lourds cheveux sur moi s'appesantir, Comme morte parmi les lumières fanées. C'est le lac endormi de l'heure à l'unisson, La halte au bord du puits, le repos dans les roses ; Et par de longs fils d'or nos cœurs liés aux choses Sous l'invisible archet vibrent d'un long frisson. Oh ! garder à jamais l'heure élue entre toutes, Pour que son souvenir, comme un parfum séché, Quand nous serons plus tard las d'avoir trop marché, Console notre cœur, seul, le soir, sur les routes. Voici que, les jardins de la nuit vont fleurir. Les lignes, les couleurs, les sons deviennent vagues. Vois, le dernier rayon agonise à tes bagues. Ma sœur, [entends-tu]1 pas quelque chose mourir !... Mets sur mon front tes mains fraîches comme une eau pure, Mets sur mes yeux tes mains douces comme des fleurs, Et que mon âme où vit le goût secret des pleurs. Soit comme un lys fidèle et pâle à ta ceinture. C'est la Pitié qui pose ainsi son doigt sur nous ; Et tout ce que la terre a de soupirs qui montent, Il semble qu'à mon [cœur]2 enivré, le racontent Tes yeux levés au ciel, si tristes et si doux.
G. Fauré sets stanzas 7-9
G. Taconet sets stanzas 7-9, 4
Trémisot sets stanzas 7-9, 4
About the headline (FAQ)
View original text (without footnotes)1 Fauré: "n'entends-tu"
2 Fauré: "âme"
Authorship:
- by Albert Victor Samain (1858 - 1900), "Elégie", appears in Au jardin de l'Infante, first published 1893 [author's text checked 1 time 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 René Defossez (1905 - 1988), "Soir" [ high voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
- by Gabriel Fauré (1845 - 1924), "Soir", op. 83 no. 2 (1894), published 1896, stanzas 7-9 [ medium voice and piano or orchestra ] [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Georges Taconet (1889 - 1962), "Soir", op. 57, stanzas 7-9,4 [ high voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
- by Édouard Trémisot (1874 - 1952), "Les Jardins de la Nuit", 1902, published 1902?, stanzas 7-9,4 [ high voice and piano ], L. Grus [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2023, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Peter Low) , copyright © 2023, (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: 36
Word count: 313
When night pours its sadness on the firmament, and when, pale on the balcony, on your calm face, the essential timeless sign appears, then what in me adores you is deeply moved. It is the thinking hour when lamps are lit. The city, where gradually all noise dies down, is deserted, and withdraws into a vague distant place and takes on the gentleness of old engravings. Solemnly we keep silent. Sometimes a word is spoken, a fragile bridge by which souls communicate. The sky loses its colour; and there's a unique charm in the way time seems to pass between our fingers. I would stay like that for hours, for years, without ever using up the sweetness of feeling your head of ample hair weighing down on me, as if dead among the fading lights. It's the sleeping lake at the hour of unison, the pause at the well's edge, repose among the roses; and our hearts vibrate, linked to things by threads of gold, as the unseen violin-bow draws a long quivering note. Oh! To keep forever this choicest of hours, so that memory of it, like a dried perfume, (later, when we are weary from walking too far) will console our hearts alone, in the evenings, as we go. And now the gardens of the night will bloom. The lines, colours, and sounds become vague. Look, the final ray touches your rings and expires. Oh sister, can you not hear something die!... Place on my forehead your hands like pure water, place on my eyes your hands sweet as flowers, and may my soul with its secret taste for tears be like a pale and faithful lily that you wear. It is Pity that puts its finger on us thus: and all of the sighs that rise from the earth (so thinks my enraptured heart) are retold by your eyes raised skyward, so sad and so gentle.
About the headline (FAQ)
Translations of titles
"Soir" = "Evening"
"Les Jardins de la Nuit" = "The gardens of the night"
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2023 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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Albert Victor Samain (1858 - 1900), "Elégie", appears in Au jardin de l'Infante, first published 1893
This text was added to the website: 2023-10-05
Line count: 36
Word count: 319