Le Chant des Oiseaux (Clément Janequin): Difference between revisions

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{{Translation|English}}<br>
{{Translation|English}}<br>
(Placed on the Internet by the Scholars of London)<br>
(Placed on the Internet by the Scholars of London)<br>
Rouse yourselves, sleeping hearts,<br>
Rouse yourselves, sleeping hearts,<br>
The god of love calls you.<br>
The god of love calls you.<br>

Revision as of 05:11, 1 April 2008

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Editor: Till Rettig (added 2008-03-28).   Score information: A4, 19 pages, 198 kbytes   Copyright: Public Domain
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General Information

Title: Le Chant des Oiseaux
Composer: Clément Janequin

Number of voices: 4vv  Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Chanson

Language: French
a cappella Published: Attaignant 1529

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

French.png French text

Réveillez vous, coeurs endormis,
Le dieu d'amours vous sonne.
Vous serez tous en joie mis
Car la saison est bonne.
Les oiseaux quand sont ravis
En leur chant font merveilles;
Ecoutez bien leur devis,
Détoupez vos oreilles.
Et fa ri ro frere li joli
Ti ti pi ti, chouti toui.
Tu, que dis tu?
Le petit sansonnet de Paris,
Le petit mignon: (q'est là bas?
Passe villain. Sainte tête Dieu,
II est temps d'aller boire)
Sage, courtois et bien apris.
A sermon, ma maitresse.
Sus madame à Ia messe.
A saint Trotin montrer le tétin,
Le doux musequin.
Teo ticun, frian, frian frian,
Tu tu tu, qui l'ara.
Coqui coqui, oi ti oi ti,
Huyt huyt, ter ter teo,
Queo queo, tar tar, fouquet, quibi,
Veleci, huyt huyt, ter turri.
Cocu coqui, ou est il, le cocu?
Fuiez, fuiez, maître cocu,
Sortez de nos chapitre,
Vous ne serez point retenu
Car vous n’êtes qu’un traître.
Par trahison en chacun nid,
Pondez sans qu’on vous sonne.
Réveillez vous, etc..

English.png English translation
(Placed on the Internet by the Scholars of London)
Rouse yourselves, sleeping hearts,
The god of love calls you.
You should all be joyful
For spring is come.
The birds, all inspired,
Do wonders with their song;
Listen well to their ditty,
Bend your ears.
And...
...
You, what are you saying?
The little starling of Paris,
The little thing: (who’s there?
Pass, knave. By the holy head of God
It is time to go drinking)
Wise, courteous and well versed.
Go to the sermon, my mistress.
Get thee to Mass, Madam.
To St. Trotin to show your tits
And sweet looks.
...
…Who wants it?
Cuckoo, cuckoo...
...
...
...
Cuckoo, where is the cuckoo?
Away, go away, master Cuckoo,
Get out of our company.
You will never be missed
For you are nothing but a traitor.
Treacherously, in every nest
You lay without being called.
Rouse yourselves, etc..