Villanelle, H 82 (Hector Berlioz)

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CPDL #17483:     

Editor: David Newman (added 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 - File Sizes: PDF: 316 KB.

General Information

Title: Villanelle
Composer: Hector Berlioz
Lyricist: Théophile Gautier

Number of voices: 1v   Voicing: Solo Soprano
Genre: Secular, Aria

Language: French
Instruments: Piano

Published: Villanelle (Op. 7, No. 1, from Les nuits d’été) - Composed 1834.

Description:

External websites:

• French Translation is on Lied and Art Song Text Page.
• Spanish Translation is on Lied and Art Song Text Page.

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!

Lyrics: Théophile Gautier (1811-1872).

English translation

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.

Translated by Isabella G. Parker