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Quand je pense à ce jour, où pres d'une fonteine Dans le jardin royal savourant ta douceur, Amour te descouvrit les segrets de mon cœur, Et de combien de maux j'avois mon ame pleine: Je me pasme de joye, et sens de veine en veine Couler ce souvenir, qui me donne vigueur, M'aguise le penser, me chasse la langueur, Pour esperer un jour un fin à ma peine. Mes sens de toutes parts se trouverent contens, Mes yeux en regardant la fleur de ton Printems, L'oreille en t'escoutant: et sans ceste compagne, Qui tousjours noz props tranchoit par le milieu, D'aise au ciel je volois, et me faisois un Dieu: Mais tousjours le plaisir de douleur s'accompagne.
About the headline (FAQ)
- by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585) [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 Robert Caby (1905 - 1992), "Quand je pense à ce jour, où près d'une fontaine", 1955 [ vocal duet for tenor and bass a cappella ] [sung text not yet checked]
- by Théodore Gouvy (1819 - 1898), "Quand je pense à ce jour", op. 41 no. 8, published 1876 [ voice and piano ], from 40 Poèmes de Ronsard, no. 8, Paris, Éd Simon Richault [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (David Wyatt) , "When I think of that 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: 14
Word count: 117
When I think of that day, when near a fountain In the royal garden, as I savoured your sweetness, Love disclosed to you the secrets of my heart And how many ills filled my soul; Ah then I swoon with joy, and feel this memory Running from vein to vein, giving me strength; It sharpens my thinking, chases away my indolence, In hoping one day for an end to my troubles. My mind is content in every way, My eyes too, looking at the flower of your Springtime, And my ears in hearing you; and without this company Which always breaks off our sentiments right in the middle, I would easily fly to heaven and make myself a god; But still, the pleasure of my pain is its own company.
- 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.
This text was added to the website: 2012-07-25
Line count: 14
Word count: 130