Chanson d'Avril (Bizet), Voici que le printemps (Debussy), Villanelle (Berlioz)

Chanson d’avril - Georges Bizet Original Text by Louis Hyacinthe Bouilhet English Translation by Peter Low Get up! Get up! Spring has just been born! Over those valleys a rosy mist is floating! Everything in the garden trembles and sings; your window is full of sunshine, like a joyful gaze. Around the bunches of purple-flowering lilac butterflies and bees flutter and hum together, and the little shaking bells of lily-of-the-valley have woken up Eros who was sleeping in the woods. Now that April has scattered its white daisies, go without your heavy cloak and cold-weather muff! The birds are already calling you, and the periwinkles (your sisters) will smile in the grass when they see your blue eyes. Let's get going! The stream is clearer in early morning. Get up! Let's not wait for the day's burning heat. I want to wet my feet in the moist dew and talk to you of love under the blossoming pear-trees. Voici que le printemps - Claude Debussy Original Text by Paul Bourget English Translation by John Glenn Paton Behold the Spring, that delicate son of April, A handsome page in green velvet embroidered with white roses, Behold how nimble, how dashing he is, with hands on his hips, Like a prince being hailed on his return from long exile. The branches of verdant bushes hem in The path he dances along like a jester; A nightingale perches on his left shoulder, And on his right shoulder a blackbird has alighted. And the flowers that slumbered beneath the forest moss Open their eyes, on which a vague tender shadow quivers; And their little feet stand on tiptoe to hear The two birds whistle and sing together. For the blackbird whistles and the nightingale sings; The blackbird whistles for those who are not loved And for spellbound and languishing lovers The nightingale pours out a touching song. Villanelle Original Text by Théophile Gautier English Translation by Richard Stokes When the new season comes, When the cold has gone, We two will go, my sweet, To gather lilies-of-the valley in the woods; Scattering as we tread the pearls of dew We see quivering each morn, We’ll go and hear the blackbirds Sing! Spring has come, my sweet; It is the season lovers bless, And the birds, preening their wings, Sing songs from the edge of their nest Ah! Come, then, to this mossy bank, To talk of our beautiful love, And tell me with your gentle voice: Forever! Far, far away we’ll stray from our path, Startling the rabbit from his burrow And the deer reflected in the spring Admiring his great lowered antlers; Then home we’ll go, serene and at ease, And entwining our fingers basket-like We’ll bring back home wild Strawberries!