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Fuis, mon âme, fuis! Je meurs sous les traits De la plus cruelle des vierges. Viens, ô mort! Qu'on m'étende à la lueur des cierges Dans un cercueil de noir cyprès. Qu'on m'ensevelisse loin d'elle Dans le blême linceul couvert de branches d'if, Qui, partageant mon sort, ami sûr mais tardif, Du moins me restera fidèle. Que pas une fleur, une pauvre fleur Sur ma tombe ne soit semée; Pour moi, que nul ami, que nulle voix aimée N'ait des paroles de douleur. Que je sois seul avec mes peines, Et laissez au désert blanchir mes ossements, De peur que sur ma tombe, hélas! les vrais amants Ne versent trop de larmes vaines.
Authorship
- by Maurice Bouchor (1855 - 1929) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
- a text in English by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), no title, appears in Twelfth Night, Act II, scene 4
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Ernest Amédée Chausson (1855 - 1899), "Chanson de Clown (Le Soir des Rois)", op. 28 no. 1 (1890), published 1910 [voice and piano], from Trois Chansons de Shakespeare, no. 1, Paris : Rouart [ sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Emily Ezust) , "Song of the Clown (Twelfth Night)", copyright © 2016
Researcher for this text: Robert Grady
Text added to the website: 2003-11-19 00:00:00
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:00
Line count: 16
Word count: 113
Flee, my soul, flee! I die from the arrows Of the cruelest of maidens. Come, o death! Let them lay me out to the light of candles In a coffin of black cypress. Let them bury me far from her In a white shroud covered with yew branches, So that, sharing my fate, my sure friend - though late - Will at least remain faithful to me. Not one flower, one poor flower Upon my grave should be strewn; For me, no friend, no beloved voice Should speak words of sorrow. If only I could be alone with my grief, And let my bones be bleached in the desert, Lest upon my grave, alas, true lovers Will shed too many vain tears.
Authorship
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2016 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.
- a text in French (Français) by Maurice Bouchor (1855 - 1929)
- a text in English by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), no title, appears in Twelfth Night, Act II, scene 4
Text added to the website: 2016-07-09 00:00:00
Last modified: 2017-06-04 18:26:15
Line count: 16
Word count: 122