The dawn | How soft the light that comes to illuminate the East!

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by Lucile de Chateaubriand (1764 - 1804)

Translation © by John Wagstaff

L'aurore

Language: French (Français)

Our translations: ENG

Quelle douce clarté vient éclairer l'Orient !
Est-ce la jeune aurore qui entrouvre au monde
Ses beaux yeux chargés des langueurs du sommeil ?
Déesse charmante, hâte-toi !
Quitte la couche nuptiale, prends la robe pourpre ;
Qu'une ceinture moelleuse la retienne dans ces nœuds ;
Que nulle chaussure ne presse tes pieds délicats ;
Qu'aucun ornement ne profane tes belles mains faites
pour entrouvrir les portes du jour.
Mais tu te lèves déjà sur la colline ombreuse.
Tes cheveux d'or tombent en boucles humides sur ton col de rose.
De ta bouche s'exhale un souffle pur et parfumé.
Tendre déité, toute la nature sourit à ta présence,
Toi seule verses des larmes, et les fleurs naissent.

Text Authorship:

by Lucile de Chateaubriand (1764 - 1804) [author's text not yet checked 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 Darius Milhaud (1892 - 1974), "L'aurore", op. 10 no. 1 (1913), published 1914 [ medium voice and piano ], from Trois Poèmes en prose de Lucile de Chateaubriand, no. 1, Albert Zunz Mathot [sung text checked 1 time]

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

ENG English (John Wagstaff) , "The dawn", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this page: Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2009-07-01
Line count: 14
Word count: 111

The dawn

Language: English after the French (Français)

How soft the light that comes to illuminate the East!
Is it young Aurora, half-opening upon the world
Her beautiful eyes still heavy with sleep?
Lovely goddess, make haste! Leave your marriage bed;
Take up your purple robe,
And let it be contained by a loosely-knotted belt;
Let no shoe press upon your delicate feet;
Let no adornment defile those lovely hands,
Made to open the doors of the day.
But you are already rising over the shadowy hill;
Your golden hair falls in damp curls over your rosy neck,
And a pure and sweet-scented breath issues from your mouth.
Tender goddess, all nature now smiles at your presence;
You alone shed tears, and the flowers are born.

Text Authorship:

Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2009 by John Wagstaff, (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:

a text in French (Français) by Lucile de Chateaubriand (1764 - 1804)
- Go to the text page.

This text was added to the website: 2009-09-22
Line count: 14
Word count: 118