This water comes from my eye | This water comes from my eye, which adores

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by Joachim du Bellay (1525 - c1560) and sometimes misattributed to Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)

Translation © by David Wyatt

Cet' humeur vient de mon oeil, qui adore

Language: French (Français)

Our translations: ENG

Cet' humeur vient de mon oeil, qui adore
Ton sainct protraict, seul Dieu de mon soucy,
De mon cueur part maint soupir adoucy,
De tes yeulx sort le feu qui me devore.

Donques le prix de celuy qui t'honnore,
Est-ce la mort, et le marbre endurcy?
O pleurs ingratz! ingratz soupirs aussi,
Mon feu, ma mort, et ta rigueur encore.

De mon esprit les aesles sont guidées
Jusques au seing des plus haultes Idées
Idolatrant ta celeste beaulté.

O doulx pleurer! ô doulx soupirs cuisans!
O doulce ardeur de deux soleilz luisans!
O doulce mort! ô doulce cruaulté!

About the headline (FAQ)

Text Authorship:

by Joachim du Bellay (1525 - c1560), no title, appears in L'Olive, no. 58, first published 1550 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
sometimes misattributed to Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

by Anthoine de Bertrand (1540? - 1581?), "Cest humeur vient de mon œil", first performed 1576 [ vocal quartet a cappella ], from 25 Chansons à 4 parties, Livre 3, no. 6 [sung text checked 1 time]

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

ENG English (David Wyatt) , "This water comes from my eye", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2010-10-28
Line count: 14
Word count: 98

This water comes from my eye

Language: English after the French (Français)

This water comes from my eye, which adores 
Your holy portrait, o sole god of my care;
From my heart flows many a soft sigh,
From your eyes issues the fire which devours me.

So, the prize for him who honours you,
Is it death, and the hardness of marble?
O thankless tears! Thankless sighs too,
I am on fire, I die, and still you remain harsh.

The wings of my spirit are guide
To the very heart of the highest Ideals
In idolising your heavenly beauty.

O sweet weeping! O sweet burning sighs!
O sweet warmth of those two shining suns!
O sweet death! o sweet cruelty!

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:

a text in French (Français) by Joachim du Bellay (1525 - c1560), no title, appears in L'Olive, no. 58, first published 1550 and misattributed to Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
- Go to the text page.

This text was added to the website: 2012-07-25
Line count: 14
Word count: 108