Apparition
Language:
French
La lune s'attristait. Des séraphins en pleurs
Rêvant, l'archet aux doigts, dans le calme des fleurs
Vaporeuses, tiraient de mourantes violes
De blancs sanglots glissant sur l'azur des corolles.
-- C'était le jour béni de ton premier baiser.
Ma songerie aimant à me martyriser
S'enivrait savamment du parfum de tristesse
Que même sans regret et sans déboire laisse
La cueillaison d'un Rêve au coeur qui l'a cueilli.
J'errais donc, l'oeil rivé sur le pavé vieilli
Quand avec du soleil aux cheveux, dans la rue
Et dans le soir, tu m'es en riant apparue
Et j'ai cru voir la fée au chapeau de clarté
Qui jadis sur mes beaux sommeils d'enfant gâté
Passait, laissant toujours de ses mains mal fermées
Neiger de blancs bouquets d'étoiles parfumées.
Input by Auditorium du Louvre
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, and transliterations (if applicable):
 ENG
English
(Laura Claycomb)
(Peter Grunberg)
CHI
Chinese
(Yen-Chiang Che)
Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Notes about green, red, and white dots  
| Gentle Reminder |
This project is not funded.
If you found
the information here useful,
please consider making a donation. Your gift is greatly appreciated!
- Emily
I also have a wishlist at Amazon.ca.
|
|
Apparition
Language:
English
The moon was saddened. Seraphims in tears
dreaming, bows at their fingers, in the calm of filmy flowers
Threw dying violas of white sobs
sliding over the blue of corollas.
It was the blessed day of your first kiss;
My reverie, loving to torture me,
wisely imbibed its perfume of sadness
That even without regret and without setback
leaves the gathering of a dream within the heart that gathered it.
I wandered then, my eye riveted on the aged cobblestones.
When, with light in your hair, in the street
and in the evening, you appeared to me smiling
and I thought I had seen the fairy with a hat of light
who passed in my sweet dreams as a spoiled child,
always dropping from her carelessly closed hand
a snow of white bouquets of perfumed stars.
Authorship
Translation from French to English copyright © 2007 by Laura Claycomb, laura (AT) lauraclaycomb (DOT) com, http://www.lauraclaycomb.com and Peter Grunberg, petergrunberg (AT) mac (DOT) com, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. Please contact the copyright-holder when requesting permission to reprint.
Based on
Text added to the website: 2007-10-25.
|