Poulenc Banalités: 5. Sanglots. Rebecca Myers, soprano; Benjamin C.S. Boyle, piano.

Recorded by Conrad Erb on November 2, 2019 at The Woodmere Art Museum.
Poetry of Guillaume Apollinaire
Notre amour est réglé par les calmes étoiles
Or nous savons qu'en nous beaucoup d'hommes respirent
Qui vinrent de trés loin et sont un sous nos fronts
C'est la chanson des rêveurs
Qui s'étaient arraché le coeur
Et le portaient dans la main droite ...
Souviens-t'en cher orgueil de tous ces souvenirs
Des marins qui chantaient comme des conquérants.
Des gouffres de Thulé, des tendres cieux d'Ophir
Des malades maudits, de ceux qui fuient leur ombre
Et du retour joyeux des heureux émigrants.
De ce coeur il coulait du sang
Et le rêveur allait pensant
À sa blessure délicate ...
Tu ne briseras pas la chaîne de ces causes...
...Et douloureuse et nous disait:
...Qui sont les effets d'autres causes
Mon pauvre coeur, mon coeur brisé
Pareil au coeur de tous les hommes...
Voici nos mains que la vie fit esclaves
...Est mort d'amour ou c'est tout comme
Est mort d'amour et le voici.
Ainsi vont toutes choses
Arrachez donc le vôtre aussi!
Et rien ne sera libre jusq'à la fin des temps
Laissons tout aux morts
Et cachons nos sanglots
Human love is ruled by the calm stars.
We know that within us many people breathe who came from afar and are united behind our brows.
This is the song of that dreamer who had torn out his heart and was carrying it in his right hand...
Remember, oh dear pride, all those memories:
the sailors who sang like conquerors,
the chasms of Thule, the tender skies of Ophir,
the accursed sick, the ones who flee their own shadows,
and the joyful return of the happy emigrants.
Blood was flowing from that heart;
and the dreamer went on thinking
of his wound which was delicate ...
You will not break the chain of those causes...
...and painful; and he kept saying to us:
...which are the effects of other causes.
"My poor heart, my heart which is broken
like the hearts of all men...
Look, here are our hands which life enslaved.
"...has died of love or so it seems,
has died of love and here it is.
That is the way of all things.
"So tear your hearts out too!"
And nothing will be free until the end of time.
Let us leave everything to the dead,
and let us hide our sobbing.

[@pradourat]

C’est d’Apollinaire pas de Eluard...

[@rebeccamyers3809]

Ah! Merci beaucoup. I can't believe I did that.