TRANSLATIONS OF WECKERLIN’S BERGERETTES

 The  ABRSM’s new Singing Syllabus includes several of these charming songs.  I publish these singing translations as an addition to those already available.  Copyright remains mine, but they are free to download and perform.

Que ne suis-je la fougère

(How I wish I were a ferny bank)

How I wish I were a ferny bank, so my love could lie there,

In the cool shades of evening, in Love’s tender care.

How I wish I were a Zephyr, blowing tender and sweet,

Or the air she is breathing, or the flow’rs ‘neath her feet.

As pure water, I would bathe her in my loving embrace;

As her garments, I’d enfold her, adorning her grace;

As her mirror, I would tell her how smiling and fair

Is the face she sees reflected in loveliness there.

How I wish, in a dream, I could capture her heart;

Make the dream a reality, so we’d never part.

They have made me too ambitious, those gods who dwell above,

For in truth, my one desire is to be pleasing to my love.

Bergère légère

Oh shepherdess, tripping so lightly along,

Your presence inflames, but you heed not my song.

Manner provoking, enticing to seduce;

But in vain, oh proud one, you flee my pursuit,

You flee my pursuit.

Oh shepherdess, tripping so lightly along,

Your presence inflames, but you heed not my song

All your conversation’s of Love’s eternal law;

Meaningless expressions – you love none but you,

You love none but you.

Oh shepherdess, tripping so lightly along,

Your presence inflames, but you heed not my song

Aminte

Come with me into this lovely wood, Aminte,

Roaming wherever we desire, come.

Come with me into this lovely wood, Aminte,

And of its joys we will not tire.

We will hear the sweet birdsong,

The murmur of the doves,

Billing and cooing.

Everything conspires to foster,

In our sylvan tryst

Our tender wooing.

In the shadow of the trees

We will sport as we please,

Freely kissing and caressing.

Let us, while we may, enjoy the blessing;

Let us break the bonds that up till now contained our fire,

Restrained desire,

For Love requires that our hearts be joined as one. Come.

Come with me into this lovely wood, Aminte,

Roaming wherever we desire, come.

Come with me into this lovely wood, Aminte,

And of its joys we will not tire.

Jeunes fillettes

Gather ye roses, maidens while you may.

Know that spring’s posies have but short a stay.

La la la riette, La ri lon la la

La la la riette, La ri lon la la

Violets blossom, but they fade and die.

Know that Love’s season all too soon will fly.

Gather ye roses, maidens while you may.

Know that spring’s posies have but short a stay.

La la la riette, La ri lon la la

La la la riette, La ri lon la la

Spring is the time to find a love, you know.

If he’s unfaithful, simply let him go!

Gather ye roses, maidens while you may.

Know that spring’s posies have but short a stay.

La la la riette, La ri lon la la

La la la riette, La ri lon la la

Maman, dites-moi

Tell me, Mother

How do people feel when they love, Mother tell me.

Do they feel pleasure or pain?

All day long I’m suffering a constant torment,

And in the night – well, I  don’t know –

A lover can cause us so much pain.

If someone close to us were sighing,

What then should we tell him?

‘Tis a shepherd fair, fairer far than Love,

Softly whispered to me, just the other day,

That he loved me true.

I answered not,

I answered not.

But if he should return to ask again,

What should I do, Oh Mother?

Oh tell me what to do.

Of our village shepherds, he is the most perfect,

In all he says and all he does.

So engaging are his ways that we, all unthinking,

Are drawn to his attractive charms.

A lover can cause us so much pain.

If close to us his heart were sighing,

What then should we tell him?

He, whose charms have more power than Cupid’s own,

Softly whispered to me, just the other day,

That he loved me true.

I answered not,

I answered not.

But if he should return to ask again,

What should I do, Oh Mother?

Oh tell me what to do. 

Venez, agréable Printemps

Now Spring has returned to the world,

Reviving the flowers in the field,

The delicate leaves unfurled

Gracing gardens and pasture and weald.

Gardens now with blossom adorned,

The roses are almost in flower.

Soon their hues will gladden the morn,

Making every garden a bower.

The nightingales singing of love

Fill the woodland with melody ringing,

Descending from branches above,

It tells us that love is the highest joy,

Tells us that love is the highest joy.

Chaque chose à son temps

Gather ye roses

Gather ye roses while you may, love,

Gather them while you may.

For when it’s winter, we no longer

Find the flowers of spring.

Gather ye roses while you may, love,

Gather them while you may.

For when it’s spring, the violets

Will bloom all too short a time.

Gather ye roses while you may, love,

Gather them while you may.

So take a husband while you’re young, love,

While it is still your spring.

Gather ye roses while you may, love,

Gather them while you may.

Lisette

Driving my flock of sheep one day,

Down by the wood so shady,

A shepherd lad I chanced to spy,

Who sang thus of his lady:

“Lisette is charming, fair and sweet.

Vain, though, is all my sighing.

I dare not tell my love,

And so for love I’m dying.

“Fair as a lily is her face,

Blooming her cheeks like roses.

Smiling and playful, every grace

Upon her lips reposes.

“Lisette is charming, fair and sweet.

Vain, though, is all my sighing.

I dare not tell my love,

And so for love I’m dying.

“With but a glance, a glowing dart

Pierces and inflames me.

Through her eyes Love plies his art,

He overthrows and tames me.

“Lisette is charming, fair and sweet.

Vain, though, is all my sighing.

I dare not tell my love,

And so for love I’m dying.”

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