De soir
Language: French (Français)
Available translation(s): ENG
Dimanche sur les villes,
Dimanche dans les coeurs!
Dimanche chez let petites filles,
Chantant d'une voix informée,
Des rondes obstinées,
Ou de bonnes tours
N'en ont plus que pour quelques jours!
Dimanche, les gares sont folles!
Tout le monde appareille
Pour des banlieues d'aventure,
En se disant adieu
Avec des gestes éperdus!
Dimanche les trains vont vite,
Dévorés par d'insatiables tunnels;
Et les bons signaux des routes
Echangent d'un oeil unique,
Des impressions toutes mécaniques.
Dimanche, dans le bleu de mes rêves,
Où mes pensées tristes
De feux d'artifices manqués
Ne veulent plus quitter
Le deuil de vieux Dimanches trépassés.
Et la nuit, à pas de velours,
Vient endormir le beau ciel fatigué,
Et c'est Dimanche dans les avenues d'étoiles;
La Vierge or sur argent
Laisse tomber les fleurs de sommeil!
Vite, les petits anges,
Dépassez les hirondelles
Afin de vous coucher
Forts d'absolution!
Prenez pitié des villes,
Prenez pitié des coeurs,
Vous, la Vierge or sur argent!
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 or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Faith J. Cormier) , "Evening", copyright © 2003, (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: 34
Word count: 158
Evening
Language: English  after the French (Français)
Sunday on the city, Sunday in our hearts! Sunday among the little girls
singing with untrained voices their stubborn rounds where good turns only
last a few days! Sunday, the stations are mad! Everyone heads off for the
suburbs of adventure, waving a frenzied farewell! Sunday trains are fast,
devoured by insatiable tunnels, and the good signal lights with their single
eyes exchange mechanical impressions. Sunday, in the blue of my dreams where
my sad thoughts of missed fireworks do not want to leave off mourning for
deceased Sundays. The night, with velvet steps, comes to lull the lovely,
tired sky to sleep, and it's Sunday among the avenues of stars. The Virgin,
gold on silver, scatters the flowers of sleep. Swiftly, little angels, pass
the swallows and go to bed, strong in your absolution! Take pity on the
cities, take pity on our hearts, oh Virgin, gold on silver.
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2003 by Faith J. Cormier, (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 between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 150