Attention! Some of this material is not in the public domain.
It is illegal to copy and distribute our copyright-protected material without permission. It is also illegal to reprint copyright texts or translations without the name of the author or translator.
To inquire about permissions and rates, contact Emily Ezust at
If you wish to reprint translations, please make sure you include the names of the translators in your email. They are below each translation.
Note: You must use the copyright symbol © when you reprint copyright-protected material.
Le plaisir nous appelle À la fête du jour, Dansons la tarentelle Qui réveille l'amour, Viens jeune pastourelle, Aimable autant que belle, Le plaisir nous appelle, Viens profitons d'un beau jour. Après de longs travaux, Pour oublier la peine, Il faut bien que l'on prenne Quelques instans de repos. Allons, ne perdons pas Un si beau jour d'automne, Car l'hyver monotone Fondra bientôt sur nos pas. Dans nos cheveux épars Entremêlons ces roses, Les dernières écloses, Pour charmer tous les regards.
Authorship
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Maria Felicia Garcia Malibran (1808 - 1836), "La tarentelle", from Album Lyrique, no. 4. [text verified 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Laura L. Nagle) , title 1: "Tarentelle", copyright © 2007, (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: 20
Word count: 81
Pleasure is calling us To the day's celebration. Let us dance the tarantella, Which awakens love. Come, young shepherdess, As amiable as you are lovely! Pleasure is calling us; Come, let us enjoy this beautiful day. After long labors, To forget our troubles, Indeed we must take A few moments of rest. Come, let us not waste Such a beautiful autumn day, For dreary winter Soon will sweep down upon our feet. In our tousled hair Let us intertwine these roses -- The last to bloom -- And we shall enchant every eye.
Authorship
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2007 by Laura L. Nagle, (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:
- a text in French (Français) by Ambroise Bétourné (1795 - 1838)
This text was added to the website: 2007-03-01
Line count: 20
Word count: 91