1897년 작곡된 드뷔시 가곡의 걸작이다.
고대 그리이스의 여류 시인 빌리티스를 소재로 한 루이스의
산문시집 <빌리티스의 노래> 제1부에서 3곡이 선택되었다.
소녀 빌리티스의 사랑에 눈을 뜬 봄, (제1곡 <판의 피리>에 해당),
관능적 사랑 (제2곡 <머리카락>에 해당), 및
사랑의 종말 (제3곡 <나이아드의 묘>에 해당)을 그렸다.
이 작품은 드뷔시 특유의 시와 음악이 일치된 낭송형 가곡으로
음의 육체화라 할 정도로 관능미가 섬세하게 표현되고 있다.
소프라노 Maggie Teyte
La Flûte de Pan, no. 1 from 'Trois Chansons de Bilitis'
(Claude Debussy, 1862-1918)
Pour le jour des Hyacinthies,
Il m'a donné une syrinx faite
De roseaux bien taillés,
Unis avec la blanche cire
Qui est douce à mes lèvres comme le miel.
Il m'apprend à jouer, assise sur ses genoux;
Mais je suis un peu tremblante.
Il en joue après moi, si doucement
Que je l'entends à peine.
Nous n'avons rien à nous dire,
Tant nous sommes près l'un de l'autre;
Mais nos chansons veulent se répondre,
Et tour à tour nos bouches
S'unissent sur la flûte.
Il est tard;
Voici le chant des grenouilles vertes
Qui commence avec la nuit.
Ma mère ne croira jamais
Que je suis restée si longtemps
A chercher ma ceinture perdue.
---------------------------------
For the festival of Hyacinthus
he gave me a syrinx, a set of pipes made
from well-cut reeds joined
with the white wax
that is sweet to my lips like honey.
He is teaching me to play, as I sit on his knees;
but I tremble a little.
He plays it after me, so softly
that I can scarcely hear it.
We are so close that we have
nothing to say to one another;
but our songs want to converse,
and our mouths are joined
as they take turns on the pipes.
It is late:
here comes the chant of the green frogs,
which begins at dusk.
My mother will never believe
I spent so long
searching for my lost waistband.
La chevelure, no. 2 from 'Trois Chansons de Bilitis'
(Claude Debussy, 1862-1918)
Il m'a dit: "Cette nuit, j'ai rêvé.
J'avais ta chevelure autour de mon cou.
J'avais tes cheveux comme un collier noir
Autour de ma nuque et sur ma poitrine.
Je les caressais, et c'étaient les miens;
Et nous étions liés pour toujours ainsi,
Par la même chevelure, la bouche sur la bouche,
Ainsi que deux lauriers n'ont souvent qu'une racine.
Et peu à peu, il m'a semblé.
Tant nos membres étaient confondus,
Que je devenais toi-même,
Ou que tu entrais en moi comme mon songe."
Quand il eut achevé,
Il mit doucement ses mains sur mes épaules,
Et il me regarda d'un regard si tendre,
Que je baissai les yeux avec un frisson.
-------------------------------------
He told me: "Last night I had a dream.
Your hair was around my neck,
it was like a black necklace
round my nape and on my chest.
"I was stroking your hair, and it was my own;
thus the same tresses joined us forever,
with our mouths touching,
just as two laurels often have only one root.
"And gradually I sensed,
since our limbs were so entwined,
that I was becoming you
and you were entering me like my dream."
When he'd finished,
he gently put his hands on my shoulders,
and gazed at me so tenderly
that I lowered my eyes, quivering.
Le Tombeau des Naïades, no. 3
from 'Trois Chansons de Bilitis'
(Claude Debussy, 1862-1918)
Le long du bois couvert de givre, je marchais;
Mes cheveux devant ma bouche
Se fleurissaient de petits glaçons,
Et mes sandales étaient lourdes
De neige fangeuse et tassée.
Il me dit: "Que cherches-tu?"
Je suis la trace du satyre.
Ses petits pas fourchus alternent
Comme des trous dans un manteau blanc.
Il me dit: "Les satyres sont morts.
"Les satyres et les nymphes aussi.
Depuis trente ans, il n'a pas fait un hiver aussi terrible.
La trace que tu vois est celle d'un bouc.
Mais restons ici, où est leur tombeau."
Et avec le fer de sa houe il cassa la glace
De la source ou jadis riaient les naïades.
Il prenait de grands morceaux froids,
Es les soulevant vers le ciel pâle,
Il regardait au travers.
------------------------------------------
I was walking along in the frost-covered woods;
in front of my mouth
my hair blossomed in tiny icicles,
and my sandals were heavy
with muddy caked snow.
He asked: "What are you looking for?"
"I'm following the tracks of the satyr -
his little cloven hoofprints alternate
like holes in a white cloak."
He said: "The satyrs are dead.
"The satyrs are dead, and the nymphs too.
In thirty years there has not been such a terrible winter.
That's the trail of a he-goat.
But let's pause here, where their tomb is."
With his hoe he broke the ice
of the spring where the water-nymphs used to laugh.
There he was, picking up large cold slabs of ice,
lifting them toward the pale sky,
and peering through them.
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