C’est l’extase- Fauré at Wigmore Hall

Sebastian Wybrew, Piano It is languorous rapture, It is amorous fatigue, It is all the tremors of the forest In the breezes’ embrace, It is, around the grey branches, The choir of tiny voices. O the delicate, fresh murmuring! The warbling and whispering, It is like the soft cry The ruffled grass gives out … You might take it for the muffled sound Of pebbles in the swirling stream. This soul which grieves In this subdued lament, It is ours, is it not? Mine, and yours too, Breathing out our humble hymn On this warm evening, soft and low? Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song