by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896)
Translation © by Emily Ezust

C'est l'extase langoureuse
Language: French (Français) 
Available translation(s): ENG GER GER SPA
C'est l'extase langoureuse,
C'est la fatigue amoureuse,
C'est tous les frissons des bois
Parmi l'étreinte des brises,
C'est vers les ramures grises
Le choeur des petites voix.

O le frêle et frais murmure !
Cela gazouille et susurre,
Cela ressemble au [cri]1 doux
Que l'herbe agitée expire...
Tu dirais, sous l'eau qui vire,
Le roulis sourd des cailloux.

Cette âme qui se lamente
[En]2 cette plainte dormante
C'est la nôtre, n'est-ce pas ?
La mienne, dis, et la tienne,
Dont s'exhale l'humble antienne
Par ce tiède soir, tout bas ?

C. Saint-Saëns sets stanzas 1-2

About the headline (FAQ)

View original text (without footnotes)
1 Fauré: "bruit"
2 Fauré: "Et"

Authorship

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

Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Emily Ezust) , "It is the langorous ecstasy", copyright ©
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Pierre Mathé) , "Es ist die verführerische Verzückung", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • SPA Spanish (Español) (Mónica Luz Alvarez Jiménez) , no title, copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2014-09-03 07:41:34
Line count: 18
Word count: 90

It is the langorous ecstasy
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
It is the langorous ecstasy,
It is the fatigue after love,
It is all the rustling of the wood,
In the embrace of breezes;
It is near the gray branches:
A chorus of tiny voices.

Oh, what a frail and fresh murmur!
It babbles and whispers,
It resembles the soft noise
That waving grass exhales.
You might say it were, under the bending stream,
The muffled sound of rolling pebbles.

This soul, which laments
And this dormant moan,
It is ours, is it not?
Is it [not] mine[?] -- tell [me] -- and yours,
Whose humble anthem we breathe
On this mild evening, so very quietly?

Authorship

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © by Emily Ezust

    Emily Ezust permits her translations to be reproduced without prior permission for printed (not online) programs to free-admission concerts only, provided the following credit is given:

    Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
    from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/

    For any other purpose, please write to the e-mail address below to request permission and discuss possible fees.


Based on

 

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:53
Line count: 18
Word count: 104