Villanelle, H 82 (Hector Berlioz)
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- Editor: David Newman (submitted 2008-07-10). Score information: Letter, 6 pages, 316 kbytes Copyright: Public Domain
- Edition notes: Cross posting by Art Song Central - An edition in G Minor and two in B Minor.
General Information
Title: Villanelle, Op. 7, No. 1
Composer: Hector Berlioz
Lyricist: Théophile Gautier (1811-1872)
Number of voices: 1v Voicing: Solo Soprano
Genre: Secular, Aria
Language: French
Instruments: Piano
Published:
Description: from Les nuits d’été, composed 1834.
External websites:
Original text and translations
French text
- Quand viendra la saison nouvelle,
- Quand auront disparu les froids,
- Tous le deux nous iront, ma belle,
- Pour cuellir le muguet au bois.
- Sous nos pieds égranant les perles
- Que l’on voit au matin trembler,
- Nous irons écouter les merles,
- Nous irons écouter les merles
- Siffler.
- Le printemps est venu, ma belle,
- C’est le mois des amants béni;
- Et l’oiseau, satinant son aile,
- Dit des vers au rebord du nid.
- Oh! viens donc sur ce banc de mousse
- Pour parler de nos beaux amours,
- Et dis-moi de ta voix si douce,
- Toujours!
- Loin, bien loin, égarant nos courses,
- Faisons fuir le lapin caché,
- Et le daim, au miroir des sources,
- Admirant son grand bois penché!
- Puis chez nous, tout heureux, tout aises,
- En paniers enlaçant nos doigts,
- Revenons, rapportons des fraises
- Des bois!
English translation
by Isabella G. Parker
- When shall come Spring's delightful weather,
- When bleak Winter hath passed away,
- Then, my love, we will go together,
- Gath'ring lilies in the woodland gay.
- Pearls of dew from our footsteps flinging,
- Trembling bright in the morning ray,
- Then will we hear the blackbirds singing,
- Then will we hear the blackbirds singing,
- All day!
- Spring is come, O my love, so brightly;
- 'Tis the month for all lovers blest:
- Birdling, poised on his wing so lightly,
- Singeth songs by his downy nest.
- Oh, come. On mossy bank reposing,
- We will talk of our love today,
- Thy gentle voice thy love disclosing:
- Thy gentle voice thy love disclosing:
- Alway!
- Far away through the wood we'll wander,
- Fright the hare, hiding as we pass,
- Where the deer sees his antlers yonder,
- Mirrored fair in the Spring's clear glass;
- Then alone in our sylvan pleasures,
- Fingures twining, the while we roam,
- We'll from the wood its fruity treasures,
- We'll from the wood its fruity treasures
- Bring home.
Another "Singable" version in English:
by Samuel Byrne
- When verdant spring again approaches,
- When winter's chills have disappeared,
- Through the woods we shall stroll, my darling,
- The fair primrose to cull at will.
- The trembling bright pearls that are shining,
- Each morning we shall brush aside;
- We shall go to hear the gay thrushes
- Singing.
- The flowers are abloom, my darling,
- Of happy lovers 'tis the month;
- And the bird his soft wing englossing,
- Sings [carols sweet]1 within his nest.
- Come with me on the mossy bank,
- Where we'll talk of nothing else but love,
- And whisper with thy voice so tender:
- Always!
- Far, far off let our footsteps wander,
- Fright'ning the hiding hare away,
- While the deer at the spring is gazing,
- Admiring his reflected horns.
- Then back home, with our hearts rejoicing,
- And fondly our fingers entwined,
- Lets return, let's return bringing fresh wild berries
- Wood-grown.