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Versons ces roses près ce vin, Près de ce vin versons ces roses, Et boivons l'un à l'autre, afin Qu'au cœur nos tristesses encloses Prennent en boivant quelque fin. La belle Rose du Printemps, Aubert, admoneste les hommes Passer joyeusement le temps, Et pendant que jeunes nous sommes, Ébattre la fleur de nos ans. Tout ainsi qu'elle défleurit, Fanie en une matinée, Ainsi notre âge se flétrit, Las ! et en moins d'une journée Le printemps d'un homme périt. Ne vis-tu pas hier Brinon Parlant et faisant bonne chère, Qui las ! aujourd'hui n'est sinon Qu'un peu de poudre en une bière, Qui de lui n'a rien que le nom ? Nul ne dérobe son trépas, Charon serre tout en sa nasse, Rois et pauvres tombent là-bas : Mais cependant le temps se passe, Rose, et je ne te chante pas. La Rose est l'honneur d'un pourpris, La Rose est des fleurs la plus belle, Et dessus toutes a le prix : C'est pour cela que je [l'appelle]1 La violette de Cypris. La Rose est le bouquet d'Amour, La Rose est [le jeu]2 des Charites, La Rose blanchit tout au tour Au matin de perles petites Qu'elle emprunte du point du jour. La Rose est le parfum des Dieux, La Rose est l'honneur des pucelles, Qui leur sein beaucoup aiment mieux Enrichir de Roses nouvelles, Que d'un or tant soit précieux. Est-il rien sans elle de beau ? La Rose embellit toutes choses, Vénus de Roses a la peau, Et l'Aurore a les doigts de Roses, Et le front le Soleil nouveau. Les Nymphes de Rose ont le sein, Les coudes, les flancs et les hanches : Hébé de Roses a la main, Et les Charites, tant soient blanches, Ont le front de Roses tout plein. Que le mien en soit couronné, Ce m'est un Laurier de victoire : Sus, appelons le deux-fois-né, Le bon père, et le faisons boire, De ces Roses environné. Bacchus, épris de la beauté Des Roses aux feuilles vermeilles, Sans elles n'a jamais été, Quand en chemise sous les treilles Il boit au plus chaud de l'Été.
M. Emmanuel sets stanzas 6-9
About the headline (FAQ)
View original text (without footnotes)1 Emmanuel: "t'appelle"
2 Emmanuel: "l'honneur"
Authorship:
- by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585), no title [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Maurice Emmanuel (1862 - 1938), "À la Rose", op. 13 no. 3 (1911), published 1914, stanzas 6-9 [voice, piano and flute], from Trois odelettes anacréontiques, no. 3, Paris, Éd. Durand [ sung text checked 1 time]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in French (Français), [adaptation] ; composed by Robert Caby, Théodore Gouvy.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (David Wyatt) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2011-06-03
Line count: 60
Word count: 352
Pour these roses next to the wine, Next to this fine wine pour these roses, And drink one to another, that Those sad things we keep in our hearts May meet in drinking some kind of end. The fair rose of spring, Aubert, admonishes men To spend their time joyously And, while we're young, To frolic away the flower of our years. And just as her petals fall, Faded in a morning, So our age is blighted: Alas, in less than a day A man's springtime perishes. Didn't you see Brinon yesterday Chattering and making good cheer, Who, alas, is nothing today but A little powder in a beer Which has nothing of him but his name? None can avoid his death, Charon closes his net on us all, Kings and paupers fall down below; But - time is passing, O Rose, and I am not singing of you! The Rose is the most distinguished of crimsons, The Rose is of flowers most beautiful, And above all others takes the prize: That's why I call [it]1 The violet of Cypris1. The Rose is the scent of love The Rose is the [plaything]2 of the Graces, The Rose makes all around it fade, In the morning, with tiny pearls She borrows from the dawn. The Rose is the perfume of the gods, The Rose is the symbol of virgins, Who love far more to enrich Their breast with fresh roses Than with gold however precious. Is there anything beautiful without her? The Rose enhances all things, Venus has skin like roses, And Dawn is rosy-fingered8 And the morning Sun is rose-pink. The nymphs have rosy breasts, Arms, bodies, legs; Hebe has a rosy hand, And the Graces, though fair-skinned, Have all-rosy brows. Would that mine was so crowned, That would be for me a laurel of victory; Up then, call the twice-born, The good father, and let's make him drink, Encircled by these roses. Bacchus, enamoured of the beauty Of roses with their crimson petals, Has never been without them When in shirt-sleeves he drinks Beneath the arbour in the hottest days of summer.
About the headline (FAQ)
View original text (without footnotes)1 Emmanuel: "you"
2 Emmanuel: "prize"
Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2014 by David Wyatt, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585), no title
This text was added to the website: 2014-01-14
Line count: 60
Word count: 353