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Les faux beaux jours ont lui tout le jour, ma pauvre âme, Et les voici vibrer au cuivre du couchant. Ferme les yeux, pauvre âme, et rentre sur-le-champ : Une tentation des pires. Fuis l'infâme. Ils ont lui tout le jour en longs grêlons de flammes, Battant toute vendange aux collines, couchant Toute moisson de la vallée, et ravageant Le ciel tout bleu, le ciel chanteur qui réclame. Ô pâlis, et va-t'en, lente et joignant les mains. Si ces hivers allaient manger nos beaux demains ? Si la vieille folie était encore en route ? Ces souvenirs va-t-il falloir les retuer ? Un assaut furieux, le suprême sans doute ! Ô, va prier contre l'orage, va prier.
About the headline (FAQ)
- by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Sagesse, in Sagesse I, no. 7, first published 1880 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Pierre Hermant (1869 - 1928), "Les faux beaux jours ont lui tout le jour, ma pauvre âme", published 1904 [voice and piano], from Sagesse, no. 3, Paris, Énoch [text not verified]
- by Louis Vierne (1870 - 1937), "Les faux beaux jours", op. 38 no. 9 (1916), published 1924 [voice and piano], from Spleens et Détresses, no. 9, Paris, Salabert [text verified 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Corinne Orde) , title 1: "The false fine days", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Geoffrey Wieting
Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:53
Line count: 14
Word count: 117
The false fine days have shone all day, my poor soul, And here they are, vibrant in the copper glow of sunset. Close your eyes, poor soul, and go home quickly. [It's] the worst of temptations; flee the unspeakable. They shone all day in long hailstones of flame, Beating down the vines on the hills, flattening The harvest of the valley, and ravaging The blue sky, the sky which sings and calls for you. Oh, fade now and leave, slowly and with joined hands. What if those winters were to consume our lovely tomorrows? What if the old madness were still on its way? Those memories, shall we have to kill them again? A furious assault, the final one no doubt! Oh, go and pray against the storm, go and pray.
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2008 by Corinne Orde, (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.
- a text in French (Français) by Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896), no title, appears in Sagesse, in Sagesse I, no. 7, first published 1880
Text added to the website: 2008-01-16 00:00:00
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:34
Line count: 14
Word count: 131