La Mort et le Bûcheron
Language: French (Français)
Un pauvre bûcheron, tout couvert de ramée,
Sous le faix du fagot aussi bien que des ans,
Gémissant et courbé, marchait à pas pesants,
Et tâchait de gagner sa chaumine enfumée.
Enfin, n’en pouvant plus d’effort et de douleur,
Il met bas son fagot, il songe à son malheur.
Quel plaisir a-t-il eu depuis qu’il est au monde ?
En est-il un plus pauvre en la machine ronde ?
Point de pain quelquefois, et jamais de repos :
Sa femme, ses enfants, les soldats, les impôts,
Le créancier, et la corvée,
Lui font d’un malheureux la peinture achevée.
Il appelle la Mort. Elle vient sans tarder,
Lui demande ce qu’il faut faire.
C’est, dit-il, afin de m’aider
À recharger ce bois ; tu ne tarderas guère.
Le trépas vient tout guérir ;
Mais ne bougeons d’où nous sommes :
Plutôt souffrir que mourir,
C’est la devise des hommes.
Confirmed with Jean de La Fontaine, Fables, Bernardin-Bechet, 1874, pages 50-51.
Text 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 Étienne Rey (1832 - 1923), "La Mort et le Bûcheron", published [1876] [ high voice and piano ], from Six Fables, no. 5, Paris, Éd. Léon Escudier [sung text not yet checked]
- by Claude Torrent (b. 1944), "La Mort et le Bûcheron" [ voice and piano ], from 5 Fables de La Fontaine, no. 5 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Marcel Trémois (1891 - 1974), "La Mort et le bûcheron", published 1921 [ medium voice and piano ], from Mélodies, 1er recueil, no. 4, Éd. Salabert [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Grant Hicks) , "Death and the Woodcutter", copyright © 2025, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2020-09-19
Line count: 20
Word count: 142
Death and the Woodcutter
Language: English after the French (Français)
A poor woodcutter, all draped in leafy branches,
Burdened by the bundle as well as by years,
Groaning and bent over, walked with heavy steps,
And tried to reach his smoky cottage.
Finally, unable to carry on for the effort and pain,
He puts down his bundle, and ponders his misfortune.
What pleasure has he ever had in the world?
Is there anyone in this round mechanism who has less?
Sometimes no bread, and never any rest:
His wife, his children, soldiers, taxes,
Creditors and forced service,
Make him the very picture of wretchedness.
He calls out to Death, who comes without delay,
And asks him what he needs done.
"It's just," he says, "that I'd like help
Picking up this wood again; it shouldn't take you long."
Death comes to cure everything;
But let's not budge from where we are:
Better to suffer than to die,
That is men's motto.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2025 by Grant Hicks, (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:
This text was added to the website: 2025-10-24
Line count: 20
Word count: 151
