Le Chant des Oiseaux (Clément Janequin)
Music files
| ICON | SOURCE |
|---|---|
 |
File details |
 |
Help |
- CPDL #16469:
LilyPond
- Editor: Till Rettig (submitted 2008-03-28). Score information: A4, 19 pages, 198 kB Copyright: Public Domain
- Edition notes:
Possible error(s) identified. Error summary: Wrong notes in b.13,75,114,145,184-5, text in alto b.104, bass b.168-183 See the discussion page for full description.
CPDL #16036:
- Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2008-02-16). Score information: A4, 24 pages, 158 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes:
- CPDL #04774: Sibelius 2
- Editor: John Henry Fowler (submitted 2003-04-19). Score information: Letter, 25 pages, 240 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: revised 5/21/03
- CPDL #01390: Finale 2000
- Editor: Claudio Macchi (submitted 2000-09-22). Score information: Letter, 15 pages, 309 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: Finale file is zipped.
General Information
Title: Le Chant des Oiseaux
Composer: Clément Janequin
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Chanson
Language: French
Instruments: a cappella
Published: Attaignant 1529. See here for a short version.
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
French text
Réveillez vous, coeurs endormis,
Le dieu d'amours vous sonne.
Vous serez tous en joie mis
Car la saison est bonne.
Les oiseaux quand sont ravis
En leur chant font merveilles ;
Ecoutez bien leur devis,
Détoupez vos oreilles.
Et fa ri ro frere li joli
Ti ti pi ti, chouti toui.
Tu, que dis tu ?
Le petit sansonnet de Paris,
Le petit mignon: (q'est là bas ?
Passe villain. Sainte tête Dieu,
II est temps d'aller boire)
Sage, courtois et bien apris.
A sermon, ma maitresse.
Sus madame à Ia messe.
A saint Trotin montrer le tétin,
Le doux musequin.
Teo ticun, frian, frian frian,
Tu tu tu, qui l'ara.
Coqui coqui, oi ti oi ti,
Huyt huyt, ter ter teo,
Queo queo, tar tar, fouquet, quibi,
Veleci, huyt huyt, ter turri.
Cocu coqui, ou est il, le cocu ?
Fuiez, fuiez, maître cocu,
Sortez de nos chapitre,
Vous ne serez point retenu
Car vous n’êtes qu’un traître.
Par trahison en chacun nid,
Pondez sans qu’on vous sonne.
Réveillez vous, etc..
French text
(This text matches all of the editions on CPDL -- the one above matches the recording used by the Scholars of London)
Reveillez vous, coeurs endormis Le dieu d’amous vous sonne. A ce premier jour de may, Oyseaulx feront merveillez, Pour vous mettre hors d’esmay Destoupez vos oreilles. Et farirariron (etc…) Vous serez tous en ioye mis, Car la saison est bonne.
Vous orrez, à mon advis, Une dulce musique Que fera le roy mauvis D’une voix autentique. Ty, ty, pyty. (etc…) Rire et gaudir c’es mon devis, Chacun s’i habandonne.
Rossignol du boys ioly, A qui le voix resonne, Pour vous mettre hors d’ennuy Vostre gorge iargonne: Frian, frian, frian (etc…) Fuiez, regrez, pleurs et souci, Car la saison l’ordonne.
Ariere maistre coucou, Sortez de no chapitre. Chacun vous donne au bibou, Car vous n’estes q’un traistre. Coucou, coucou (etc…) Par traison en chacun nid, Pondez sans qu’on vous sonne. Reveillez vous, coeurs endormis, Le dieu d’amours vous sonne.
English translation
(Placed on the Internet by the Scholars of London)
Rouse yourselves, sleeping hearts,
The god of love calls you.
You should all be joyful
For spring is come.
The birds, all inspired,
Do wonders with their song;
Listen well to their ditty,
Bend your ears.
And...
...
You, what are you saying?
The little starling of Paris,
The little thing: (who’s there?
Pass, knave. By the holy head of God
It is time to go drinking)
Wise, courteous and well versed.
Go to the sermon, my mistress.
Get thee to Mass, Madam.
To St. Trotin to show your tits
And sweet looks.
...
…Who wants it?
Cuckoo, cuckoo...
...
...
...
Cuckoo, where is the cuckoo?
Away, go away, master Cuckoo,
Get out of our company.
You will never be missed
For you are nothing but a traitor.
Treacherously, in every nest
You lay without being called.
Rouse yourselves, etc..
English translation
(This translation matches all of the editions on CPDL -- the one above matches the Scholars of London recording, but not these editions)
Awake, sleepy hearts, The god of love calls you. On this first day of May, The bird will make you marvel. To lift yourself from dismay, Unclog your ears. And fa la la la la (etc…) You will be moved to joy, For the season is good.
You will hear, I advise you, A sweet music That the royal blackbird will song In a pure voice. Ti, ti, pi-ti (etc…) To laugh and rejoice is my device, Each with abandon.
Nightingale of the pretty woods, Whose voices resouds, So you don’t become board, Your throat jabbers away: Frian, frian (etc…) Flee, regrets, tears and worries, For the season commands it.
Turn around, master cuckoo Get out of our company. Each of us gives you a ‘bye-bye’ For you are nothing but a traitor. Cuckoo, cuckoo (etc…) Treacherously in others nests, You lay without being called. Awake, sleepy hearts, The god of love is calling you.