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Ravel - Don Quichotte à Dulcinée

Don Quichotte à Dulcinée

Ravel (1932)

Chanson romanesque

Si vous me disiez que la terre
A tant tourner vous offensa,
Je lui dépêcherais Pança:
Vous la verriez fixe et se taire.

Si vous me disiez que l'ennui
Vous vient du ciel trop fleuri d'astres,
Déchirant les divins cadastres,
Je faucherais d'un coup la nuit.

Si vous me disiez que l'espace
Ainsi vidé vous plaît point,
Chevalier dieu, la lance au poing,
J'étoilerais le vent qui passe.

Mais si vous me disiez que mon sang
Est plus à moi qu'à vous, ma Dame,
Je blêmirais dessous le blâme
Et je mourrais, vous bénissant.

O Dulcinée.

Chanson épique

Bon Saint Michel qui me donnez loisir
De voir ma Dame et de l'entendre,
Bon Saint Michel qui me daignez choisir
Pour lui complaire et la défendre,

Bon Saint Michel veuillez descendre
Avec Saint Georges sur l'autel
De la Madone au bleu mantel.

D'un rayon du ciel bénissez ma lame
Et son égale en pureté
Et son égale en piété
Comme en pudeur et chasté: Ma Dame.

O grands Saint Georges et Saint Michel
L'ange qui veille sur ma veille,
Ma douce Dame si pareille
A vous, Madone au bleu mantel!


Chanson à boire

Foin du bâtard, illustre Dame,
Qui pour me perdre à vos doux yeux,
Dit que l'amour et le vin vieux
Mettent en deuil mon cœur, mon âme!

Je bois à la joie!
La joie est le seul but
Où je vais droit
Lorsque j'ai bu!

Foin du jaloux, brune maîtresse,
Qui geind, qui pleure et fait serment
D'être toujours ce pâle amant
Qui met de l'eau dans son ivresse!

Je bois à la joie!
La joie est le seul but
Où je vais droit
Lorsque j'ai bu!

Paul Morand

Written for the same film as the songs by Ibert, Ravel has used three authentic Spanish dance rhythms for these songs; the Guajira, the Zorzica and the Jota respectively.

Don Quixote to Dulcinea


Romanesque song

Were you to tell me that the earth,
turning so much, offended you,
I would hurry Panza to her:
you would see her motionless and fall silent.

Were you to tell me that boredom
comes to you from heaven, adorned with too many stars,
tearing apart the divine decrees,
with one blow I would fell the night.

Were you to tell me that space
thus emptied pleases you not
knight of God, lance in hand,
I would scatter stars in the passing wind.

But were you to tell me that my blood
is more mine than yours, my Lady,
I would grow pale under the reproach
And I would die, still blessing you.

O Dulcinea.

Epic song

Good Saint Michael who give me liberty
to see my Lady and to hear her,
good Saint Michael who deign to choose me
to please and defend her,

good Saint Michael I beg you to come down
with Saint George to the altar
of the Madonna with the blue mantle.

With a ray from heaven bless my blade
and its equal in purity
and its equal in piety
as in modesty and chastity: my Lady.

O great Saint George and Saint Michael
the angel who watches over my vigil,
my sweet Lady so like
you, Madonna with the blue mantle!


Drinking song

Away with the bastard, illustrious Lady,
who, to disfavour me in your sweet eyes,
says that love and old wine
place my heart, my soul in mourning!

I drink to happiness!
Happiness is the only goal
to which I go straight
once I have drunk!

Away, dark-haired mistress, with the jealous man
who moans, who weeps and preaches
to be forever that pale lover
who waters down his intoxication!

I drink to happiness!
Happiness is the only goal
to which I go straight
once I have drunk!

© translated by Christopher Goldsack

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