Home Contact

Fauré - Soir


Fauré (1894)

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 gout 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.

Albert Samain



The gardens of the night are now about to flower.
The lines, the colours, the sounds are becoming vague;
See! The last ray is expiring on your rings,
My sister, do you not hear something dying.

On my brow place your hands as cool as a pure water,
on my eyes place your hands as soft as flowers,
and let my soul, where the secret taste of tears resides,
be like a faithful and pale lily at your waist!

It is compassion which places its finger thus upon us,
and all that the earth has of sighs rising up,
it seems that your eyes, so sad and so sweet, raised
towards heaven, are relating it to my intoxicated heart.

© translated by Christopher Goldsack

Please be aware that some of the original French texts on this site are still in copyright. The translations are offered here for study purposes.

Students and not-for-profit events are always welcome to use the transaltions for their programmes free of charge. I am however glad to be told when they are being used! Send me an email and do share the site with friends and colleagues! If seeking to use them for commercial purposes please also consider making a small donation towards the upkeep of the site: