Au pays où se fait la guerre
Mon bel ami s'en est allé;
Il semble à mon cur désolé
Qu'il ne reste que moi sur terre.
En partant, au baiser d'adieu,
Il m'a pris mon âme à ma bouche
Qui le tient si longtemps, mon Dieu?
Voilà le soleil qui se couche,
Et moi, toute seule en ma tour,
J'attends encore son retour.
Les pigeons sur le toit roucoulent,
Roucoulent amoureusement
Avec un son triste et charmant;
Les eaux sous les grands saules coulent.
Je me sens tout près de pleurer,
Mon cur comme un lys plein s'épanche,
Et je n'ose plus espérer,
Voici briller la lune blanche.
Et moi, toute seule en ma tour,
J'attends encore son retour.
Quelqu'un monte à grand pas la rampe:
serait-ce lui, mon doux amant?
Ce n'est pas lui, mais seulement
Mon petit page avec ma lampe.
Vents du soir, volez, dites-lui
Qu'il est ma pensée et mon rêve,
Toute ma joie et mon ennui.
Voici que l'aurore se lève,
Et moi toute seule en ma tour,
J'attends encore son retour.
To the land where a war is waged
my beloved has departed;
it seems to my disconsolate heart
that I alone remain on earth.
On leaving, with the farewell kiss,
he took my soul from my lips
My God, who withholds so long?
Here now is the sun setting,
and me, all alone in my tower,
I still await his return.
The pigeons are cooing on the roof,
cooing lovingly
with a sad and enchanting sound;
Beneath the big willows the waters are flowing.
I feel very near to crying,
my heart opens out like a full lily,
and I dare not hope any longer,
now the white moon is shining.
and me, all alone in my tower,
I still await his return.
Someone is climbing the steps with big strides:
would it be him, my sweet lover?
It is not him, but only
my little page with my lantern.
Winds of the evening, fly, tell him
that he is my thought and my dream,
my whole joy and my longing.
Here now is the dawn rising,
and me, all alone in my tower,
I still await his return.
© translated by Christopher Goldsack
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