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In the Garden of my
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The English version presented below is a literal, word-for-word translation. It attempts to preserve the poet's word order as far as possible, for a better appreciation of the composer's musical treatment of individual words and phrases.

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Quand vos yeux amoureux ne me sont point moroses,

Mon coeur est un jardin plein d’oeillets et de roses.

 

Tout est joyeux, les fleurs, les couleurs, les odeurs,

Les abeilles vibrant, les papillons rôdeurs.

 

Les moineaux, les pinsons, les linots, les mésanges,

Tous les oiseaux grisés chantent comme des anges.

 

Le jet d’eau qui gazouille aussi doux que du miel,

Semble un iris ayant pour fleur un arc-en-ciel.

 

Quand Votre Majesté, madame, est satisfaite,

Au jardin de mon coeur tout le monde est en fête.

 

Mais quand vos yeux se font cruels et mécontents,

Adieu les fleurs et les oiseaux! Adieu printemps!

 

Les roses, les oeillets, se fanent sur leur tige,

Aucune abeille, aucun papillon n’y voltige.

 

Mésanges, et moineaux, et linots, et pinsons,

S’en vont loin de chez moi pour chanter leurs chansons.

 

Ôtant son arc-en-ciel ainsi qu’on ôte un masque,

Le jet d’eau rauque et lourd sanglote dans sa vasque.

 

Tant que je n’ai pas vu vos regards adoucis,

Mon coeur est un jardin tout planté de soucis.

 

Jean Richepin

 

When your loving eyes are not being morose,

My heart is a garden full of carnations and roses.

 

All is joyful: the flowers, the colours, the smells,

The bees buzzing, the butterflies flitting.

 

The sparrows, the chaffinches, the linnets, the tits,

All the intoxicated birds are singing like angels.

 

The fountain, which gurgles as sweet as honey,

Seems like an iris whose flower is a rainbow.

 

When, madam, Your Majesty is satisfied,

In the garden of my heart the whole world celebrates.

 

But when your eyes become cruel and displeased,

Farewell, flowers and birds! Farewell, springtime!

 

The roses, the carnations wilt on their stems.

No bee, no butterfly alights there.

 

Tits and sparrows, and linnets and chaffinches

Fly away far from me to sing their songs.

 

Removing its rainbow as one removes a mask,

The hoarse and heavy fountain sobs in its basin.

 

As long as I have not seen your softened glances,

My heart is a garden all planted up with troubles.

 

Recorded 21 May 2007

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