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Charles Koechlin L’hiver / Winter


L’hiver   by T.F. de Banville

Au bois de Boulogne, l’Hiver,
La terre a son manteau de neige.
Mille Iris, qui tendent leur piège,
Y passent comme un vif éclair.

Toutes, sous le ciel gris et clair,
Nous chantent le même solfège;
Au bois de Boulogne, l’Hiver,
La terre a son manteau de neige.

Toutes les blancheurs de la chair
Y passent, radieux cortège;
Les Antiopes de Corrège
S’habillent de martre et de vair
Au bois de Boulogne, l’Hiver.

Winter   translation by Hélène Lindqvist

At the forest of Boulogne in the winter
the earth wears its coat of snow
Thousand Irises that wind up their traps
pass by like a vivid flash

Under a grey and clear sky
all sing us the same skales
At the forest of Boulogne in the winter
the earth wears its coat of snow

Here all the whiteness of the flesh
passes by in a beaming cortege
The Antiopes of Corrège
are dressed in marten and fur
At the forest of Boulogne in the winter

From the Louvre:
Antonio Allegri da Correggio (Corrège)
Antiope and Jupiter

 

Learn about Charles Koechlin here.


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