Chanson Perpétuelle, Op. 37
by Ernest Chausson

Cindy Honanta, mezzo-soprano
Wang Huang Hao Jia, piano

Voice Senior Recital, 30 April 2021
Yong Siew Toh Conservatory of Music

Original Text:
Bois frissonnants, ciel étoilé,
Mon bien-aimé s'en est allé,
Emportant mon cœur désolé!
Vents, que vos plaintives rumeurs,
Que vos chants, rossignols charmeurs,
Aillent lui dire que je meurs!
Le premier soir qu'il vint ici
Mon âme fut à sa merci.De fierté je n'eus plus souci.
Mes regards étaient pleins d'aveux.
Il me prit dans ses bras nerveuxEt me baisa près des cheveux.
J'en eus un grand frémissement;
Et puis, je ne sais plus comment
Il est devenu mon amant.
Je lui disais: «Tu m'aimerasAussi longtemps que tu pourras!»
Je ne dormais bien qu'en ses bras.
Mais lui, sentant son cœur éteint,
S'en est allé l'autre matin,Sans moi, dans un pays lointain.
Puisque je n'ai plus mon ami,
Je mourrai dans l'étang, parmi
Les fleurs, sous le flot endormi.
Sur le bord arrivée, au vent
Je dirai son nom, en rêvant
Que là je l'attendis souvent.
Et comme en un linceul doré,
Dans mes cheveux défaits, au gré
Du vent je m'abandonnerai.
Les bonheurs passés verseront
Leur douce lueur sur mon front;
Et les joncs verts m'enlaceront.
Et mon sein croira, frémissant
Sous l'enlacement caressant,
Subir l'étreinte de l'absent.


English Translation:
Quivering woods, starry sky,
My beloved has gone away
Taking with him my desolate heart!
Winds, may your plaintive noises,
Charming nightingales, may your songs
Go to tell him I’m dying!
From the first evening, he came here
My soul was at his mercy.
I no longer cared about pride.
My eyes kept telling him my thoughts.
He took me in his nervous arms
And kissed my head close to my hair.
That caused me a great trembling;
And then, I no longer know how,
He became my lover.
I kept saying: “You will love me
For as long as you are able!”
I would sleep well only in his arms.
But he, feeling his heart grown cold,
Departed some mornings ago,
Without me, for a distant land.
Since I no longer have my lover
I will die in the pond, among
The flowers, under the sleeping water.
Pausing on the edge, to the wind
I will speak his name while dreaming
That I often awaited him there.
And as if in a golden shroud,
With my hair undone, I will let myself
Go wherever the wind takes me.
The happy times I have known will shed
Their gentle light on my forehead;
And the green reeds will entwine me.
And my breast will believe,
As it trembles caressed and entwined,
That the absent one is embracing me.

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