by Henry Bataille (1872 - 1922)
Translation © by David Jonathan Justman

La lettre du Jardinier
Language: French (Français) 
Available translation(s): ENG
 Je prends la plume pour vous donner
 des nouvelles du jardin
 Il est très joli en ce moment
 Si vous venez à Pâques où plus tard
 qu'au printemps
 vous le verrez
 Il s'est levé ce matin
 Tout mouillé de votre souvenir
 Il y a tout plein des fleurs que vous m'avez recommandées
 Le tissu provincial des pensées
 des pains de roses tout partout
 La cendre effritée des lilas, si pimpante
 Et les glycines au corps mou que vous nommez
 fleurs flottantes
 Le lys paralysé qui meurt devant ma porte
 Il y a des fleurs et des fleurs de toutes sortes
 Depuis les mouches bleues qu'on appelle myosotis
 Jusqu'aux papillons roses des péchers
 Les iris et les glaïeuls donnent cette année
 et font des fusées et des fuseaux
 de ci de là à profusion.

 Mais tout cela s'ennuie après Mademoiselle
 Et bien qu'il ait fait beau depuis la dernière Noël
 La joie attends que vous veniez pour y venir
 Dieu la mélancolie qu'ici nous avons tous!
 Pour un arbre sans nid
 Pour le jardin sans vous.

 Croyez Mademoiselle
 à tous mes souvenirs.

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, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (David Jonathan Justman) , title 1: "The Gardener's Letter", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: David Jonathan Justman

This text was added to the website: 2004-12-28
Line count: 29
Word count: 182

The Gardener's Letter
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
I'm taking up the pen
to give you news of the garden.
It's very pretty right now.
If you come at Easter or later,
as in the Spring,
you will see it.
It got up this morning
All damp with your memory.
It's full of flowers which you recommended to me:
The provincial cloth of thoughts
rose breads everywhere
The powdered ash of the lilacs, so graceful
And the wisterias with soft bodies which you call
floating flowers
The paralyzed lily dying before my door.
There are flowers and flowers of all sorts
From the blue flies which are called forget-me-nots
To the pink butterflies of sins.
The irises and gladioli are bearing this year
and give forth rockets and spindles
from here, from there, in profusion.

But all of this is bored and longing for Mademoiselle,
And even though the weather's been good since last Christmas,
Joy is waiting to come until you do.
God, the melancholy which all of us here feel!
For a tree without a nest,
For the garden without you.

Mademoiselle, believe
in all of my memories.

Authorship

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2004 by David Jonathan Justman, (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.
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This text was added to the website: 2004-12-28
Line count: 29
Word count: 182