by
Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
Chanson, voici le jour
Language: French (Français)
Chanson, voici le jour
Ou celle la qui la terre decore,
Et que mon oeil idolatre, & adore,
Vint en ce beau sejour.
Le ciel d'amour ataint
Ardant de voir tant de beautés l'admire,
Et se courbant desus sa face, mire
Tout l'honneur de son taint.
Car les divins flambeaus,
Grandeur, vertu, les amours, & les graces
Lui firent don quand ell'vint en ces places
De leurs presens plus beaus,
Affin que par ses yeus
Tout l'imparfait de ma jeunesse folle
Fust corrigé, & qu'elle fust l'idole
Pour m'avoier au mieus.
Heureus jour retourné,
A tout jamais j'aurai de toi memoire,
Et d'an, en an, je chanterai la gloire
De l'honneur en toi né.
Sus page vistement
Donne ma lire, affin que sur sa chorde
D'un pouce dous je marie & accorde
Ce beau jour sainctement.
Sème par la maison
Tout le tresor des prez & de la pleine,
Le lis, la rose, & cela dond est pleine
La nouvelle saison :
Et crie au temple aussi,
Que le soleil ne vit oncques journée
Qui fust de gloire, & d'honneur tant ornée
Comme il voit ceste ci.
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):
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (David Wyatt) , "My song, today's the day", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2011-06-03
Line count: 32
Word count: 186
My song, today's the day
Language: English after the French (Français)
My song, today's the day
When she who adorns the world
And whom my eye worships and adores
Came to stay in this lovely place.
The sky suffering from love
Burning to see such beauty, wonders at her,
And bowing before her face, admires
All the distinction of her complexion.
For the sacred torches of
Grandeur, valour, love and the graces
Made her a gift, when she came to this place,
Of their finer presence.
So that by her eyes
All the imperfections of my foolish youth
Were mended, and she was the object of worship
To bind me to better things.
Fortunate day that has returned
Forever I will have the memory of you
And from year to year I will sing the glory
Of the distinction born in you.
Up, page, and quickly
Give me my lyre so that on its strings
With a soft touch I can join notes and make harmonies for
This lovely day in holy fashion.
Sow through the house
All the treasure of the meadows and the plain
The lily, the rose and everything with which
The new season is filled.
And pray at the temple too
That the sun will never see another day
So bejewelled with glory and honour
As when it saw this one.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2012 by David Wyatt, (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: 2012-05-22
Line count: 32
Word count: 214