Georges Bizet (1838 – 1875)

L’amour est un oiseau rebelle que nul ne peut apprivoiser
Et c’est bien en vain qu’on l’appelle s’il lui convient de refuser
Rien n’y fait, menace ou prière, l’une parle bien, l’autre s´etait
Et c’est l’autre que je préfère, elle n’a rien dit, mais elle me plait
L’amour est un oiseau rebelle que nul ne peut apprivoiser c’est bien en vain qu’on l’appelle s’il lui convient de refuser.
L’amour est enfant de Bohème; il n’a jamais connu de loi

Si tu ne m’aimes pas je t’aime; si je t’aime prends garde à toi!
Prends garde à toi!

L’amour est enfant de Bohème, Il n’a jamais jamais connu de loi
Si tu ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime
Si je t’aime, prends garde à toi

Prends garde à toi! Si tu ne m’aimes pas, si tu ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime
Prends garde à toi! Mais si je t’aime, si je t’aime, prends garde à toi!

L’oiseau que tu croyais surprendre battit de l’aile et s’envoi a L’amour est loin, tu peux l’attendre : tu ne l’attends pas, il est là
Tout autour de toi, vite vite il vient, s’en va, puis il revient
Tu crois le tenir, il t’évite, tu crois l’éviter, il te tient!

L’amour est enfant de Bohème,Il n’a jamais jamais connu de loi
Si tu ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime
Si je t’aime, prends garde à toi

Georges Bizet (1838 – 1875)

Love is a rebellious bird that no one can tame,
and you call him quite in vain if it suits him not to come.
Nothing helps, neither threat nor prayer. One man talks well, the other keeps quiet.
It’s the other one that I prefer, he’s said nothing, but I like him.

Love! Love! Love! Love!

Love is a gypsy child; he has never, ever, known the law. If you love me not, then I love you;
and if I love you, you better watch out!
You better watch out!
If you love me not, if you love me not, then I love you!
You better watch out!
But if I love you, if I love you, you better watch out!

Love is a gypsy child; he has never, ever, known the law.
If you love me not, then I love you;
and if I love you, you better watch out!
You better watch out!
If you love me not, if you love me not, then I love you!
You better watch out!
But if I love you, if I love you, you better watch out!

The bird you thought you had caught beat its wings and flew away.
Love stays away, you can wait for it; when you stop waiting, there it is!
All around you, swift, swift, it comes, goes, then it returns,
you think you hold it fast, it flees, you think you’re free, it holds you fast.

Love! Love! Love! Love!

Love is a gypsy child; he has never, ever, known the law.
If you love me not, then I love you;
and if I love you, you better watch out!
You better watch out!

If you love me not, if you love me not, then I love you!
You better watch out!
But if I love you, if I love you, you better watch out!

Love is a gypsy child;
he has never, ever, known the law.
If you love me not, then I love you;
and if I love you, you better watch out!
You better watch out!
If you love me not, if you love me not, then I love you!
You better watch out!

But if I love you, if I love you, you better watch out!

Georges Bizet (1838 – 1875)

Carmen

Près des remparts de Séville
chez mon ami Lillas Pastia,
j’irai danser la seguedille
et boire du Manzanilla,
j’irai chez mon ami Lillas Pastia.
Oui, mais toute seule on s’ennuie,
et les vrais plaisirs sont à deux;
donc pour me tenir compagnie,
j’ammènerai mon amoureux!
Mon amoureux!.. il est au diable!
Je l’ai mis à la porte hier!
Mon pauvre coeur, très consolable,
mon coeur est libre comme l’air!
J’ai des galants à la douzaine;
mais ils ne sont pas à mon gré.
Voici la fin de la semaine:
qui veut m’aimer? je l’aimerai!
Qui veut mon âme? Elle est à prendre!
Vous arrivez au bon moment!
Je n’ai guère le temps d’attendre,
car avec mon nouvel amant
près des remparts de Séville,
chez mon ami Lillas Pastia,
j’irai danser la seguedille
et boire du Manzanilla,
dimanche, j’irai chez mon ami Pastia!

José

Tais-toi, je t’avais dit de ne pas me parler!

Carmen

Je ne te parle pas, je chante pour moi-même,
je chante pour moi-même!
Et je pense! il n’est pas défendu de penser!
Je pense à certain officier,
je pense à certain officier qui m’aime
et qu’à mon tour, oui, qu’à mon tour
je pourrais bien aimer!
Mon officier n’est pas un capitaine,
pas même un lieutenant, il n’est que brigadier;
mais c’est assez pour une bohémienne
et je daigne m’en contenter!

José

Carmen, je suis comme un homme ivre,
si je cède, si je me livre,
ta promesse, tu la tiendras,
ah! si je t’aime, Carmen, Carmen, tu m’aimeras!

Georges Bizet (1838 – 1875)

Carmen

Right by the walls of Sevilla,
At my old friend Lillas Pastia’s,
I’ll go to dance the seguidilla
And drink some manzanilla,
I’ll go to my old friend Lillas Pastia’s.
But all alone it’s not much fun,
True pleasure is when you’re a pair;
So, to make sure I’ve got someone,
I’ll bring my lover with me there!
My lover man! To hell with him now!
I broke up with him yesterday!
And my poor heart’s ripe for a whim now,
My heart is free, it’s free to play!
I am pursued by scores of gallants;
But none that I like through and through.
Now here’s the weekend – what’s the balance?
Who will love me? I’ll love him too!
Who wants my soul? It’s ripe for mating!
You have arrived right with the tide!
I have no time to waste by waiting,
For with my new man by my side,
Right by the walls of Sevilla,
At my old friend Lillas Pastia’s,
I’ll go to dance the seguidilla
And drink some manzanilla,
This Sunday I’ll go to my old friend Pastia’s!

José

Shut up, I’d told you to do no talking to me!

Carmen

I’m not talking to you, I’m singing for my pleasure,
I’m singing for my pleasure!
And I’m thinking! And thinking is not against the law!
I’m thinking of a man of war,
I’m thinking of a man of war who treasures
Me and that I could, oh yes, I could
Have loving feelings for!
He’s not a captain, though he’s quite proficient,
Not even one rank below, just an NCO;
But for a Gypsy girl that’s quite sufficient,
And for me that can be just so!

José

Oh, Carmen, I feel on a bender,
If I yield and if I surrender,
To your promise you will be true,
Oh, Carmen, Carmen, if I love you you’ll love me too.

Georges Bizet (1838 – 1875)

Les tringles des sistres tintaient
avec un éclat métallique,
et sur cette étrange musique
les zingarellas se levaient.
Tambours de basque allaient leur train,
et les guitares forcenées
grinçaient sous des mains obstinées,
même chanson, même refrain,
Tra la la la

Les anneaux de cuivre et d’argent
reluisaient sur les peaux bistrées;
d’orange ou de rouge zébrées
les étoffes flottaient au vent.
La danse au chant se mariait,
d’abord indécise et timide,
plus vive ensuite et plus rapide..
cela montait, montait, montait, montait!
Tra la la la

Les Bohémiens, à tour de bras,
de leurs instruments faisaient rage,
et cet éblouissant tapage
ensorcelait les zingaras.
Sous le rhythme de la chanson,
ardentes, folles, enfiévrées,
elles se laissaient, enivrées,
emporter par le tourbillon!
Tra la la la

Georges Bizet (1838 – 1875)

The rods of the sistrums tinkled
with a metallic lustre
and on this strange music
the zingarellas (female gypsies) rose
tambourines went their course
and exaggerated guitars
squeaked under stubborn hands,
same song, same refrain
Tra la la la

Money and copper rings
glittered on the darkened skins;
of streaked orange or red
the fabrics floated with the wind
The dance to the song is married
initially undecided and timid
sharper then and more rapid…
that went up, went up, went up, went up!
Tra la la la

Gypsies, with turn of arm
their instruments made rage (raging)
and this dazzling din
bewitched the zingaras (male gypsies).
Under the rhythm of song
burning, insane, fevered
they were left, intoxicated,
To carry the whirlwind!
Tra la la la

Music & Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim (b.1930)

From “Company”

Marry me a little,
Love me just enough.
Cry, but not too often,

Play, but not too rough.
Keep a tender distance
so we’ll both be free.
That’s the way it ought to be.
I’m ready!
Marry me a little,
Do it with a will.
Make a few demands
I’m able to fulfill.
Want me more than others,
Not exclusively.
That’s the way it ought to be.
I’m ready!
I’m ready now!

You can be my best friend,
I can be your right arm.
We’ll go through a fight or two–
No harm, no harm.
We’ll look not too deep,
We’ll go not too far.
We won’t have to give up a thing,
We’ll stay who we are.
Right?
Okay, then.
I’m ready!
I’m ready now!

Someone

Marry me a little,
Love me just enough.
Warm and sweet and easy,
Just the simple stuff.
Keep a tender distance
So we’ll both be free.
That’s the way it ought to be.
I’m ready!

Marry me a little,
Body, heart, and soul.
Passionate as hell
But always in control.
Want me first and foremost,
Keep me company.
That’s the way it ought to be.
I’m ready!
I’m ready now!

Oh, how gently we’ll talk,
Oh, how softly we’ll tread.
All the stings,
The ugly things
We’ll keep unsaid.
We’ll build a cocoon
Of love and respect.
You promise whatever you like,
I’ll never collect.
Right?
Okay, then.
I’m ready.
I’m ready now.
Someone
I’m ready!

Music & Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim (b.1930)

From “Into The Woods”

Careful the things you say
Children will listen
Careful the things you do
Children will see and learn
Children may not obey,
But children will listen
Children will look to you
For which way to turn
To learn what to be
Careful before you say “Listen to me”
Children will listen
Careful the wish you make
Wishes are children
Careful the path they take
Wishes come true, not free
Careful the spell you cast
Not just on children
Sometimes a spell may last
Past what you can see
And turn against you
Careful the tale you tell
That is the spell
Children will listen
Listen

From “Sweeney Todd”

Nothing’s gonna harm you
Not while I’m around
Nothing’s gonna harm you
No sir, not while I’m around
Demons are prowling everywhere
Nowadays
I’ll send ’em howling I don’t care
I’ve got ways
No one’s gonna hurt you
No one’s gonna dare
Others can desert you
Not to worry, whistle, I’ll be there
Demons’ll charm you with a smile
For a while
But in time
Nothing can harm you
Not while I’m around
Not to worry, not to worry
I may not be smart but I ain’t dumb
I can do it, put me to it
Show me something I can overcome
Not to worry, Mum
Being close and being clever
Ain’t like being true
I don’t need to
I would never hide a thing from you
Like some
No one’s gonna hurt you
No one’s gonna dare
Others can desert you
Not to worry, whistle I’ll be there
Demons’ll charm you with a smile
For a while
But in time
Nothin’ can harm you
Not while I’m around

Music by Jeanine Tesori / Lyrics by Brian Crawly

From “Violet”

Raise your foot now that’s the way
You’ll be movin’ on today
Raise the other put it down
Now you’re headed into town
Oh boy you got left, right
oh boy, ain’t that right

Got some years ahead to go
You’ll go free if you take it slow
Oh boy you got left, right
oh boy, ain’t that right

Two kinds of people in this world
Some say yes and some say no
Time to say which side you’re on
Eeeny meeny miney moe
Say yes and your adventure start
Not always as expected
Say no you stay apart
But you stay protected

You’ve got to give your self a reason to rejoice
Cause the music you make counts
for everything
Now every living soul has got a voice
You’ve got to give it room
And let it sing

My family never had too much
Made the best of every day
Ate what’s on our plates you know
Never threw a thing away
We left our nightmares on the shelf
Our dreams were on the table
Pass ‘em down and help your self
As long as you are able

My momma told me
Son forget what might have been
Give yourself a break whatever’s happening
Don’t let your spirit, son, come closing in
You gotta give it room and let it, let it sing
You gotta give it room and let it sing
Oh you gotta lift up your voice and sing

Got some years ahead to go
You’ll go free if you take it slow
Got some years it won’t be long
You’ll be free to sing your song

Oh boy you got left, right
Oh boy

Those precious little (can’t understand the rest of this line)
You can make your music from the simplest things
And though no one has got to tend your soul
You’ve got to give it room and let it
Let it sing, oh
You’ve got to give it room and let it
Sing

You’ve got to let it sing, oh
You got to let it sing
You got to give it room
And let it sing

Georges Bizet (1838 – 1875)

Puisque rien ne t’arrête en cet heureux pays,
Ni l’ombre du palmier, ni le jaune maïs,
Ni le repos, ni l’abondance,
Ni de voir à ta voix battre le jeune sein
De nos sœurs, dont, les soirs, le tournoyant essaim
Couronne un côteau de sa danse,

Adieu, beau voyageur! oh! que n’es-tu de ceux
Qui donnent pour limite à leurs pieds paresseux
Leur toit de branches ou de toiles!
Qui, rêveurs, sans en faire, écoutent les récits,
Et souhaitent, le soir, devant leur porte assis,
De s’en aller dans les étoiles!

Si tu l’avais voulu, peut-être une de nous,
O jeune homme, eût aimé te servir à genoux
Dans nos huttes toujours ouvertes;
Elle eût fait, en berçant ton sommeil de ses chants,
Pour chasser de ton front les moucherons méchants,
Un éventail de feuilles vertes.

Si tu ne reviens pas, songe un peu quelquefois
Aux filles du désert, sœurs à la douce voix,
Qui dansent pieds nus sur la dune;
O beau jeune homme blanc, bel oiseau passager,
Souviens-toi, car peut-être, ô rapide étranger,
Ton souvenir reste à plus d’une!

Georges Bizet (1838 – 1875)

Since nothing will keep you in this happy land,
neither the shade of the palm, nor the yellow corn,
nor repose, not abundance,
nor, in the evenings, seeing the young breast
of our sisters, at the sound of your voice, beating, whose
whirling swarm crowns a hillside with its dance,

farewell, handsome traveller! Oh! Why are you not of those
who confine their lazy feet
to their roof of branches or of canvas,
who, dreamers, without a care, listen to the tales,
and wish, at evening, seated before their door,
to depart for the stars!

Had you so wished it perhaps one of us,
o young man, would have liked to serve you kneeling
in our ever open huts;

Hide Translation

Georges Bizet (1838 – 1875)

Le papillon s’est envolé,
La fleur se balance avec grâce.
Ma belle où voyez-vous la trace,
La trace de l’amant ailé ?
Ah ! Le papillon s’est envolé !

Le flot est rapide et changeant,
Toujours sillonnant l’eau profonde.
La barque passe, et toujours l’onde
Efface le sillon d’argent.

Le papillon, c’est votre amour.
La fleur et l’onde, c’est votre âme
Que rien n’émeut, que rien
n’entame,
Où rien ne reste plus d’un jour.
Le papillon, c’est votre amour.

Ma belle où voyez-vous la trace,
La trace de l’amant ailé ?
La fleur se balance avec grâce…
Le papillon s’est envolé!

Georges Bizet (1838 – 1875)

The butterfly has flown,
The flower sways gracefully.
My beauty, where do you see the trace,
The trace of the winged lover?
Oh! The butterfly has flown!

The stream is rapid and ever-changing.
The ship passes through the deep water,
And the waves
Erase its silver wake.
The butterfly is your love.
The flower and the wave are your soul,
Moved by nothing, marked by nothing.
Nothing stays on them for more than a day.
The butterfly is your love.

My beauty, where do you see the trace,
The trace of the winged lover?
The flower sways gracefully…
The butterfly has flown!

Music & Lyrics / Jason Robert Brown (b.1970)

From “Parade”

It’s hard to speak my heart.
I’m not a man who bares his soul.
I let the moment pass me by –
I stay where I am in control.
I hide behind my work,
Safe and sure of what to say…
I know I must seem hard,
I know I must seem cold.
I never touched that girl –
You think I’d hurt a child yet?
I’d hardly seen her face before –
I swear – I swore we’d barely met.
These people try to scare you
With things I’ve never said.
I know it makes no sense.
I swear I don’t know why…
You see me as I am – You can’t believe I’d lie –
You can’t believe I’d do these deeds – A little man who’s scared and blind,
Too lost to find the words he needs.
I never touched that child –
God – I never raised my hand!

I stand before you now…
Incredibly afraid.
I pray you understand.

Music & Lyrics / Jason Robert Brown (b.1970)

here was this kid a few years back,
a little older than me
who lived in my house and looked a lot like my mother.
There was this kid i knew back then and i was sure he would be
the greatest star i’d ever known.
I’d watch him walk into a room and he was never out of place.
He knew the answer to every question.
The square and cube of every prime
a name to go with every face
like he was king upon a throne.

and we had nothing in common,
nothing in common.
my mother was convinced that i failed english out of spite.
we had nothing in common,
nothing in common.
and 30-some years later i’m still tortured and amazed
by how Daivd always got the answers right.

Now later on, i knew this guy,
he was in high school i think.
Had lots of friends and was the pride of the family.
he’d call me names and punch my head and made me feel like a dink
and i would hide from him all day.

But if i couldn’t find a friend,
which happened more than i’d have liked,
i’d go where he was and sulk around him.
He’d say you dont know how to throw and just dont play your stupid songs
and then he’d toss the ball my way.

We had nothing in common,
nothing in common.

I thought he was a jerk and who know what he thought i’d be.
But 20-some years later im still grateful and surprised
by the little gifts that David gave to me.

I knew this guy before I wed,
he had a vision in his head
of how his life would play out and his dreams would come true.
But he was stumbling, he was stalled,
and every year after he called,
i’d just think man, there goes the lonliest guy I ever knew.

People think i’m failing.
They never understand.
But temporary set backs
are part of what I planned.

And David had his vision
and david played his game.
We have nothing much in common,
but we are more or less the same.
There was a guy who met a girl who had a cat that fell in love.
that got a house and made a vow,
he took her hand and they lived happily ever after.

happily ever after
happily ever after.
here’s to happily ever after.
happily ever after.

Music by Mitch Leigh (1928-2014) / Lyrics by Joe Darion (1911-2001)

From “Man from La Mancha”

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest to follow that star
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far
To fight for the right without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell for a heavenly cause

And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this

That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest to follow that star
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far
To fight for the right without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell for a heavenly cause

And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star

Jules Massenet (1842-1912)

Va! Laisse couler mes larmes!
elles font du bien, ma chérie !
Les larmes qu’on ne pleure pas
Dans notre âme retombent toutes,
et de leurs patientes goutes
Martèlent le coeur triste et las.
Sa résistance enfin s’épuise;
le coeur se creuse et s’affaiblit;
il est trop grand, rien ne l’emplit;
et trop fragile, tout le brise!

Jules Massenet (1842-1912)

Go! Let flow my tears!
they do (me) good, my darling!
The tears which one does not cry
Inside our soul fall again, all of them,
And with their patient drops
Hammer the heart sad and weary.
Its resistance finally
Exhausts itself;
The heart collapses and weakens;
It is too big; nothing fills it
And too fragile, everything breaks it!

Jules Massenet (1842-1912)

Werther!….Werther!….Qui m’auriat di la place
que dans mon coeur il occupe aujourd’hui?
Depuis qu’il est parti , malgré moi, tout me lasse!
Et mon âme est pleine de lui!

Ces lettres! Ces lettres! Ah! je les relis san cesse…
Avec quel charmes…mais aussi quelle tristesse!
Je devrais le détruire…Je ne puis!

“Je vous écris de ma petite chambre;
un ciel gris et lourd de Décembre
pèse sur moi comme un linceul…
Et je suis seul! Seul! toujours seul!”

Ah! personne auprès de lui!
pas un seul témoignage de tendresse ou même de pitié!
Dieu! comment m’est venu ce triste courage,
d’ordonner cet exil et cet isolement?

“Des cris d’enfants! Et je pense à ce temps si doux où tous vos chers petits jouaient autour de nous!
Ils m’oublieront peut-être?”

Non Werther! dans leur souvenir,
votre image reste vivante….et quand vous reviendrez….
Mais doit -il revenier?

Ah! ce dernier billet me glace et m’épouvante!

“Tu m’as dit: à Noël, et j’ai crié: Jaimais!
On va bientôt connaître qui de nous disait vrai!
Mais si je ne dois reparÎtre au jour fixé,
devant toi, ne m’accuse pas, pleure-moi!”

“Oui, de ces yeux si pleins de charmes,
ces lignes tu les reliras!
Tu les mouilleras de tes larmes…
O Charlotte, et tu frèmiras!”

Jules Massenet (1842-1912)

Werther, who could have fortold the place,
that he would occupy in my heart today?
Since he departed, despite myself, everything wearies me.
And my soul is filled with him!

These letters! These letters! Ah! I have read them over and over!
So beautifully written….but also with such sadness.
I should have destoryed them! But I cannot
I write you from my little room, the December sky grey and heavy.
And I am alone! Alone! Always alone!

Ah! No one near him! Not a single token of tenderness or even of pity!
God! How did I ever have the sad courage to command this exile and this isolation!

The happy shouts of children raise under my window.
Some cries of children and I think of the time so sweet
when all your dear little ones played around us.
Will they perhaps forget me?

No Werther! In their memory your image remains alive!And when you return….
But will he return?
Ah, this last letter chills and terrifies me.

You said to me “At Christmas” and I cried “Never!”
One will soon know which of us spoke the truth.
But if I do not return on the appointed day,
do not blame me, weep for me!”

Yes, with those beautiful eyes
you will read these lines over and over
You will bath them with your teats
and you will shudder….