Sous le dôme épais
Où le blanc jasmin
À la rose s’assemble
Sur la rive en fleurs,
Riant au matin
Viens, descendons ensemble.

Doucement glissons de son flot charmant
Suivons le courant fuyant
Dans l’onde frémissante
D’une main nonchalante
Viens, gagnons le bord,
Où la source dort et
L’oiseau, l’oiseau chante.

Sous le dôme épais
Où le blanc jasmin,
Ah! descendons
Ensemble!

Sous le dôme épais
Où le blanc jasmin
À la rose s’assemble
Sur la rive en fleurs,
Riant au matin
Viens, descendons ensemble.

Doucement glissons de son flot charmant
Suivons le courant fuyant
Dans l’onde frémissante
D’une main nonchalante
Viens, gagnons le bord,
Où la source dort et
L’oiseau, l’oiseau chante.

Sous le dôme épais
Où le blanc jasmin,
Ah! descendons
Ensemble!

EN
Under the thick dome where the white jasmine
With the roses entwined together
On the river bank covered with flowers laughing in the morning
Let us descend together!

Gently floating on its charming risings,
On the river’s current
On the shining waves,
One hand reaches,
Reaches for the bank,
Where the spring sleeps,
And the bird, the bird sings.

Under the thick dome where the white jasmine
Ah! calling us
Together!

Under the thick dome where white jasmine
With the roses entwined together
On the river bank covered with flowers laughing in the morning
Let us descend together!

Gently floating on its charming risings,
On the river’s current
On the shining waves,
One hand reaches,
Reaches for the bank,
Where the spring sleeps,
And the bird, the bird sings.

Under the thick dome where the white jasmine
Ah! calling us
Together!

Où va le jeune Indoue,
Fille des Parias,
Quand la lune se joue
Dans les grands mimosas?
Quand la lune se joue
Dans les grands mimosas?
Elle court sur la mousse
Et ne se souvient pas

Que partout on repousse
L’enfant des parias.
Elle court sur la mousse,
L’enfant des parias;
Le long des lauriers roses,
Rêvant de douces choses,
Ah!

Elle passe sans bruit
Et riant à la nuit à la nuit!
Là-bas dans la forêt plus sombre,
Quel est ce voyageur perdu?
Autour de lui des yeux brillent dans l’ombre,

Il marche encore au hasard éperdu!
Les fauves rugissent de joie,
Ils vont se jeter sur leur proie

La jeune fille accourt et brave leurs fureurs,

Elle a dans sa main la baguette
Où tinte la clochette, où tinte la clochette
Des charmeurs.
(imitant la clochette)
Ah! ah! ah!
L’étranger la regarde,
Elle reste éblouie,
Il est plus beau que les Rajahs!
Il rougira s’il sait qu’il doit la vie
A la fille des parias.
Mais lui, l’endormant dans un rêve,
Jusque dans le ciel il l’enlève,
En lui disant: ta place est là!
C’était Vishnou, fils de Brahma!
Depuis jour au fond des bois,
Le voyageur entend parfois
Le bruit léger de la baguette
Où tinte la clochette,
Où tinte la clochette
Des charmeurs.
(imitant la clochette)
Ah! ah! ah!

Where will the young Indian girl,
daughter of the paraiahs,
go when the moon dances
In the large mimosas trees?
She runs on the moss
And does not remember
That she is pushed around
The child of outcasts;
Along the oleanders,
Dreaming of sweet things, Ah!
She goes without noise
And laughs a night.
There in the dark forest
Who is the lost traveler?
Around him
Eyes shining in the darkness,
He wonders randomly, aimless and lost!
The wild beasts roar of joy,
They will pounce on their prey,
The girl runs to him
And braves their fury
She has in her hand the baton
with tinkle bell charms!
The stranger looks at her,
and remains dazzled.
She is more beautiful than the Rajahs!
He will blush if he knows he must owe
his life to the daughter of the pariahs.
But they fall asleep and drift into a dream,
Up in the sky, they are transported,
The traveler tells her: 'your place is here!'
It was Vishnu, son of Brahma!
From that day on, in the depths of the dark forest,
a traveler may sometimes hear
the slight noise of the baton
with the tinkle bell charms!

IT
Tu che le vanità conoscesti del mondo
E godi nell'avel il riposo profondo,
Se ancor si piange in cielo, piangi sul mio dolor,
E porta il pianto mio al trono del Signor.
Carlo qui dee venir! che parta e scordi omai...
A Posa di vegliar sui giorni suoi giurai.
Ei segua il suo destin, la gloria il traccierà.
Per me, la mia giornata a sera è giunta già!
O Francia, nobil suol, sì caro ai miei verd'anni!
Fontainebleau! ver voi schiude il pensiero i vanni.
Giuro eterno d'amor là Dio da me ascoltò,
E quest'eternità un giorno sol durò.
Tra voi, vaghi giardin di questa terra ibéra,
Se Carlo ancor dovrà fermare i passi a sera,
Che le zolle, i ruscel', i fonti, i boschi, i fior,
Con le loro armonie cantino il nostro amor.
Addio, bei sogni d'ôr, illusion perduta!
Il nodo si spezzò, la luce è fatta muta!
Addio, verd'anni, ancor! cedendo al duol crudel,
Il core ha un sol desir: la pace dell'avel!
Tu che le vanità conoscesti del mondo
E godi nell'avel d'un riposo profondo,
Se ancor si piange in cielo, piangi sul mio dolor,
E il tuo col pianto mio reca appié del Signor.

EN
You who knew the vanities of the world
And enjoy deep rest in avel
If you still cry in the sky, cry on my pain,
And bring my tears to the throne of the Lord.
Carlo here dee venir! that leaves and forgets omai ...
Posa di vigil on his juraes days.
And he follows his destiny, the glory will trace it.
For me, my day in the evening has already arrived!
O France, nobil suol, so dear to my two years!
Fontainebleau! the vices are opened to you.
I swear eternally of love there God listened to me,
And this eternity one day only lasted.
Among you, vague gardens of this Iberian land,
If Carlo still has to stop the steps in the evening,
That the clods, the ruscel ', the sources, the woods, the flowers,
Our harmonies sing with their harmonies.
Goodbye, beautiful dreams d'ôr, lost illusion!
The knot broke, the light is mute!
Goodbye, two years, still! yielding to the cruel duol,
The core has a sol desir: the peace of the avel!
You who knew the vanities of the world
And enjoy in the avel of a deep rest,
If you still cry in the sky, cry on my pain,
And yours with my weeping bears the sign of the Lord.

Sì, mi chiamano Mimì
Ma il mio nome è Lucia
La storia mia è breve
A tela o a seta
Ricamo in casa e fuori...
Son tranquilla e lieta
Ed è mio svago
Far gigli e rose
Mi piaccion quelle cose
Che han sì dolce malìa
Che parlano d'amor, di primavere
Che parlano di sogni e di chimere
Quelle cose che han nome poesia...
Lei m'intende?
(Sì)
Mi chiamano Mimì
Il perché non so
Sola, mi fo'
Il pranzo da me stessa
Non vado sempre a messa
Ma prego assai il Signor
Vivo sola, soletta
Là in una bianca cameretta
Guardo sui tetti e in cielo
Ma quando vien lo sgelo
Il primo sole è mio
Il primo bacio dell'aprile è mio!
Il primo sole è mio
Germoglia in un vaso una rosa...
Foglia a foglia la spio!
Così gentil il profumo d'un fiore!
Ma i fior ch'io faccio, ahimé
I fior ch'io faccio, ahimé, non hanno odore
Altro di me non le saprei narrare
Sono la sua vicina che la vien fuori d'ora a importunare

EN
Yes, they call me Mimi
but my true name is Lucia.
My story is short.
A canvas or a silk
I embroidery at home and abroad...
I am happy and at peace
and my pastime
is to make lilies and roses.
I love all things
that have gentle sweet smells,
that speak of love, of spring,
of dreams and fanciful things,
those things that have poetic names ...
Do you understand me?
They call me Mimi,
I do not know why.
Alone, I make
lunch by myself.
I do not go to church,
but I pray a lot to the Lord.
I stay all alone
there in a white room
and look upon the roofs and the sky
but when the thaw comes
The first sun, like my
first kiss, is mine!
Buds in a vase...
Leaf and leaf I spy!
That gentle perfume of a flower!
But the flowers that I make,
Alas! no smell.
Other than telling you about me, I know nothing.
I am only your neighbor who comes out to bother you.

Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore,
non feci mai male ad anima viva!
Con man furtiva
quante miserie conobbi aiutai.
Sempre con fè sincera
la mia preghiera
ai santi tabernacoli salì.
Sempre con fè sincera
diedi fiori agli altar.
Nell'ora del dolore
perché, perché, Signore,
perché me ne rimuneri così?
Diedi gioielli della Madonna al manto,
e diedi il canto agli astri, al ciel,
che ne ridean più belli.
Nell'ora del dolore,
perché, perché, Signore,
ah, perché me ne rimuneri così?

J'ai vécu d'art, j'ai vécu d'amour,
je n'ai jamais fait de mal à âme qui vive !
Par une main cachée
j'ai soulagé toutes les misères que j'ai rencontrées.
Toujours avec une foi sincère
ma prière
est allée vers le saint tabernacle.
Toujours avec une foi sincère
j'ai offert des fleurs à l'autel.
En ce temps de douleur
pourquoi, pourquoi, Seigneur,
pourquoi m'en récompenses-tu ainsi ?
J'ai offert des joyaux pour le manteau de la Madone,
et offert mon chant aux étoiles, au ciel,
qui en resplendissaient, encore plus beaux.
En ce temps de douleur
pourquoi, pourquoi, Seigneur,
ah, pourquoi m'en récompenses-tu ainsi ?

I lived for my art, I lived for love,
I never did harm to a living soul!
With a secret hand
I relieved as many misfortunes as I knew of.
Always with true faith
my prayer
rose to the holy shrines.

Always with true faith
I gave flowers to the altar.

In the hour of grief
why, why, o Lord,
why do you reward me thus?
I gave jewels for the Madonna’s mantle,
and I gave my song to the stars, to heaven,
which smiled with more beauty.
In the hour of grief
why, why, o Lord,
ah, why do you reward me thus?