Songs

Soir

by Gabriel Fauré

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Text & Translation

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Soir
French source: Albert Samain

Voici que les jardins de la nuit vont fleurir.
Les lignes, les couleurs, les sons deviennent vagues.
Vois, le dernier rayon agonise à tes bagues.
Ma sœur, entends-tu pas quelque chose mourir?

Mets sur mon front tes mains fraîches comme une eau pure,
Mets sur mes yeux tes mains douces comme des fleurs;
Et que mon âme, où vit le goût secret des pleurs,
Soit comme un lys fidèle et pâle à ta ceinture.

C’est la pitié qui pose ainsi son doigt sur nous;
Et tout ce que la terre a de soupirs qui montent,
Il semble qu’à mon cœur enivré le racontent
Tes yeux levés au ciel, si tristes et si doux.

Evening
English translation © Richard Stokes

Now the gardens of night begin to flower.
Lines, colours, and sounds begin to blur.
See the last rays fade on your rings.
Sister, can you not hear something die?

Place your hands, cool as pure water, on my brow,
Place on my eyes your hands as sweet as flowers;
And let my soul, with its secret taste of tears,
Be like a lily at your waist, faithful and pale.

It is pity that lays thus its finger on us;
And all the sighs that rise from the earth
Seem uttered to my enraptured heart
By your sad sweet eyes raised to the skies.

Soir
French source: Albert Samain

Evening
English source: Richard Stokes

Voici que les jardins de la nuit vont fleurir.
Now the gardens of night begin to flower.
Les lignes, les couleurs, les sons deviennent vagues.
Lines, colours, and sounds begin to blur.
Vois, le dernier rayon agonise à tes bagues.
See the last rays fade on your rings.
Ma sœur, entends-tu pas quelque chose mourir?
Sister, can you not hear something die?

Mets sur mon front tes mains fraîches comme une eau pure,
Place your hands, cool as pure water, on my brow,
Mets sur mes yeux tes mains douces comme des fleurs;
Place on my eyes your hands as sweet as flowers;
Et que mon âme, où vit le goût secret des pleurs,
And let my soul, with its secret taste of tears,
Soit comme un lys fidèle et pâle à ta ceinture.
Be like a lily at your waist, faithful and pale.

C’est la pitié qui pose ainsi son doigt sur nous;
It is pity that lays thus its finger on us;
Et tout ce que la terre a de soupirs qui montent,
And all the sighs that rise from the earth
Il semble qu’à mon cœur enivré le racontent
Seem uttered to my enraptured heart
Tes yeux levés au ciel, si tristes et si doux.
By your sad sweet eyes raised to the skies.

Composer

Gabriel Fauré

  ​"Gabriel Urbain Fauré (12 May 1845 – 4 November 1924) was a French composer, organist, pianist and teacher. He was one of the foremost French composers of his generation, and his musical style influenced many 20th-century composers. Among his…

Poet

Albert Samain

Albert Victor Samain was a French poet and writer of the Symbolist school. Born in Lille, his family were Flemish and had long lived in the town or its suburbs. At the time of the poet's birth, his father, Jean-Baptiste Samain, and his mother,…

Performances

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