The Secret

Le Secret

Armand Silvestre (1837-1901)

An ‘X’ (a graduate of the École Polytechnique), he was an Inspector of Finances, one of the highest officials in France. His drama Henry VIII was set to music by Saint–Saens, and a sacred stage work was set by Gounod. He wrote five illustrated volumes on the nude in art. Set to music by Fauré.
Le Secret
Je veux que le matin l'ignore Le nom que j'ai dit à la nuit, Et qu'au vent de l'aube, sans bruit, Comme une larme il s'évapore. Je veux que le jour le proclame L'amour qu'au matin j'ai caché, Et, sur mon coeur ouvert penché, Comme un grain d'encens il l'enflamme. Je veux que le couchant l'oublie Le secret que j'ai dit au jour, Et l'emporte, avec mon amour, Aux plis de sa robe pâlie!
The Secret
O may the morn never know it, the name that I spoke to the night: may it vanish mute as a tear-drop on the breeze of the early light. O may the noonday proclaim it, the love that I hid from the morn: may it light on my heart, laid open; may my heart like an incense burn. O may dusk forget my secret, forget what I told to the day: in its robe’s pale folds may it carry my love and my secret away.
Published in AGENDA Poetry & Opera 2014

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Testament

Set to music by Duparc.

Armand Silvestre (1837-1901)

Set to music by Duparc.
Pour que le vent te les apporte Sur l’aile noire d’un remord, J’écrirai sur la feuille morte Les tortures de mon coeur mort! Toute ma sève s’est tarie Aux clairs midis de ta beauté, Et, comme à la feuille flétrie, Rien de vivant ne m’est resté Tes yeux m’ont brulé jusqu’à l’âme, Comme des soleils sans merci! Feuille que le gouffre réclame, L’autan va m’emporter aussi ... Mais avant, pour qu’il te les porte Sur l’aile noire d’un remord, J’écrirai sur la feuille morte Les tortures de mon coeur mort!
Testament
For the wind to bring you On remorse’s black wing, On the dead leaf I’ll write My dead heart’s suffering. My sap is all withered In your beauty’s bright noon: Like the leaf that is faded My life is all gone. Cruel suns are your eyes, To my soul I am burned: A leaf to the chasm, Borne off by south wind. This, first, it shall bring you On remorse’s black wing: On the dead leaf I’ll write My dead heart’s suffering.
Published in AGENDA Poetry & Opera 2014

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

More poems by Armand Silvestre...

Poème d’amour

Love Poem

Armand Silvestre (1837-1901)

Love Poem
Je veux que mon sang goutte à goutte Monte à ta lèvre lentement.1 Comme un flot limpide et calmant, De ton cœur il prendra la route. Bois-le : mon âme y sera toute Dans un suprême enivrement : Car le seul mal que je redoute, C’est de survivre à mon tourment.2 Bois-le sans honte et sans peurs vaines : Ce trésor sacré de mes veines, Toi seule pourras le tarir.3 Avec mon souffle, avec mon âme,4 Ce sang que ta bouche réclame, Bois-le ! – Car j’ai soif de mourir !
Poème d’amour
Drop by drop my blood must drip, Climbing slowly to your lip, Like a calm and limpid wave, To your heart: no less, I crave. Drink it: all my soul shall be In the height of ecstasy. My one dread, one injury: To survive my agony. Feel no shame: all fears are vain: These my vessels you shall drain: Yours, my sacred treasury. Drink my soul and drink my breath, Drink my blood, assuage your mouth. Drink it! For I thirst to die!
1. N. Boulanger écrit à tes lèvres 2. Vers répété par N. Boulanger 3. N. Boulanger répète d’abord deux fois Toi seule puis, en reprenant le vers, 3 fois. 4. N. Boulanger écrit Avec mon cœur, avec mon âme

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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When the hounds of spring…

Latin by Timothy Adès When the Hounds of Spring Are on Winter's Traces

Algernon Swinburne (1837-1909)

Latin by Timothy Adès When the Hounds of Spring Are on Winter's Traces
💜When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces,       The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places       With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain; And the brown bright nightingale amorous Is half assuaged for Itylus, For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces,       The tongueless vigil, and all the pain. 💜Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers,       Maiden most perfect, lady of light, With a noise of winds and many rivers,       With a clamor of waters, and with might; Bind on thy sandals, O thou most fleet, Over the splendor and speed of thy feet; For the faint east quickens, the wan west shivers,       Round the feet of the day and the feet of the night. 💜Where shall we find her, how shall we sing to her,       Fold our hands round her knees, and cling? O that man's heart were as fire and could spring to her,       Fire, or the strength of the streams that spring! For the stars and the winds are unto her As raiment, as songs of the harp-player; For the risen stars and the fallen cling to her,       And the southwest wind and the west wind sing. 💜For winter's rains and ruins are over,       And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover,       The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered is grief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover       Blossom by blossom the spring begins. 💜The full streams feed on flower of rushes,       Ripe grasses trammel a traveling foot, The faint fresh flame of the young year flushes       From leaf to flower and flower to fruit; And fruit and leaf are as gold and fire, And the oat is heard above the lyre, And the hoofed heel of a satyr crushes       The chestnut-husk at the chestnut-root. 💜And Pan by noon and Bacchus by night,       Fleeter of foot than the fleet-foot kid, Follows with dancing and fills with delight       The Maenad and the Bassarid; And soft as lips that laugh and hide The laughing leaves of the trees divide, And screen from seeing and leave in sight       The god pursuing, the maiden hid. 💜The ivy falls with the Bacchanal's hair       Over her eyebrows hiding her eyes; The wild vine slipping down leaves bare       Her bright breast shortening into sighs; The wild vine slips with the weight of its leaves, But the berried ivy catches and cleaves To the limbs that glitter, the feet that scare       The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies.
When the hounds of spring…
vir hiemem indagat: latrans vestigia pellit: ~~ nutrit prata Ceres et novus annus agros: murmura crebrescunt pluviae frondisque susurri, ~~ dum repleant tenebras aeriosque locos: fuscaque rursus amans minuit Philomela dolorem, ~~ clara nitens, neque Ityn iam velut ante gemit: mente cadunt Thressae naves et barbara turba ~~ et quantus vigili lingua resecta dolor. at venias, virgo sanctissima, lucis origo: ~~ tende ferox arcum: prompta sagitta micet! detque sonum surgens multo cum flumine ventus: ~~ detque sonum raucae vis resonantis aquae. indue tu soleas, o velocissima cursu: ~~ ornetur rapidi splendida forma pedis: nam veniente die veniente et nocte tremescit ~~ pallidus, en! Zephyrus, regna et Eoa nitent. queis quaerenda locis numerisve adfanda puella est? ~~ haereat apprendens qua manus arte genu ? o si cor nostrum saliens ceu flamma salutet, ~~ flamma, vel exortae mobile robur aquae ! sidera enim et venti sunt illi talis amictus, ~~ psallentem fertur qui decorasse Linum : illam oriens sidus, delapsum amplectitur illam : ~~ Africus Orpheos dat Zephyrusque sonos. nam sat hiems dederat stragis : iam desiit imber: ~~ diffugere nives: tollitur omne nefas : iam perit et tempus quod amantibus abdit amantes, ~~ quod noctes auget deminuitque dies. iam est memor horarum, maeroris et immemor, idem: ~~ confectum nascens flos fugat acre gelu: iam virgulta virent, frondescunt germina gemmis : ~~ verna sub arbustis incipit ipsa dies. crescit arundinibus pinguis cum floribus amnis: ~~ gramen opimum obstat, quin vetat ire pedem : vix rubet igne novo tener annus, et impiger heres ~~ flos folio, flori denique fructus adest : fructusque et folium splendent velut ignis et aurum, ~~ rustica dum cultam vincit avena lyram, cornipedi et Satyrus contundit calce sub umbra ~~ castaneam siliquam castaneamque nucem. et pede Pan rapido – non acrior haedus eundo! – ~~ tuve movens noctu, Liber, ut ille die, saltibus exagitans mirabilibusque choreis ~~ Maenadas oblectas Bassaridumque comas : et, ceu dissiliunr risu mollita labella, ~~ arboreae molles dissiluere comae : nec latet ille sequens Bacchantem divus amandam, ~~ nec patet adsiduo tecta puella deo. delapsi crines, hedera et delapsa puellae : ~~ cumque superciliis lumina clara latent: labitur et vitis: pectus nudatur anhelum : ~~ occultant nitidum tegmina nulla sinum. sub pede procumbunt oneroso palmite vites: ~~ ipsa hedera haere nti baccare membra capit, membra corusca et turbantes animalia plantas, ~~ seu lupus insequitur, seu cita cerva fugit.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

More poems by Algernon Swinburne...

Let's watch, as on the silver lake

Allons voir sur le lac d'argent

Armand Silvestre (1837-1901)

Allons voir sur le lac d'argent
ENSEMBLE Allons voir sur le lac d’argent Descendre la lune endormie. LUI Le miroir des eaux est changeant Moins que votre âme, mon amie. ELLE Rayon de lune est moins furtif Que peine d’amant n’est légère. LUI Ainsi mon chant doux et plaintif Ne te saurait toucher, bergère ? ELLE Amour d’homme est trop exigeant. LUI Pitié de femme est toujours brève. ENSEMBLE Allons voir sur le lac d’argent Descendre la lune en son rêve.
Let's watch, as on the silver lake
BOTH Let’s watch, as on the silver lake The sleeping moon descends. HE The mirror of the waters changes Less than your heart, my love. SHE The moonbeam is less furtive Than lover’s pain is light. HE Could my song, soft and plaintive, Not touch you, shepherdess? SHE Man’s love is too demanding. HE Brief always, woman’s pity. BOTH Let’s watch, as on the silver lake The dreaming moon descends.
Duet: music by Nadia Boulanger: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mVjwFSexKQ .

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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