Fine bass-baritone.....here's the Gautier translation. The human caravan in the Sahara of the world, on this road of years where there is no returning, plods on with dragging feet, burned by the heat of the day; the people drink from their arms the sweat that drenches them. The great lion roars and the tempest rumbles; on the receding horizon there is no minaret or tower. The only shadow to be had is that of the vulture as it crosses the sky seeking its unclean prey. They trudge always onward. And now someone sees something green and points it out with a finger! It is a cypress grove with white stones planted in it. God, to give you rest, in the desert of time has placed, like oases, cemeteries. Lie down and sleep, panting travellers!
So beautiful voice!
Fine bass-baritone.....here's the Gautier translation.
The human caravan in the Sahara of the world,
on this road of years where there is no returning,
plods on with dragging feet, burned by the heat of the day;
the people drink from their arms the sweat that drenches them.
The great lion roars and the tempest rumbles;
on the receding horizon there is no minaret or tower.
The only shadow to be had is that of the vulture
as it crosses the sky seeking its unclean prey.
They trudge always onward. And now someone sees
something green and points it out with a finger!
It is a cypress grove with white stones planted in it.
God, to give you rest, in the desert of time
has placed, like oases, cemeteries.
Lie down and sleep, panting travellers!