Debussy met the older poet via his mother-in-law. Debussy: Ariettes oubliées: No. 1. He closes with one more watercolour: Spleen. “Green” and “Spleen” from Ariette oubliées by Claude Debussy; Meine Liebe ist grün, Der Tod, das ist die kühle Nacht, Botschaft, O kühler Wald, and Von ewiger . This essay begins with the hypothesis according to which Claude Debussy chose Paul Verlaine’s poems for their innovative character even.
|Published (Last):||14 June 2018|
|PDF File Size:||9.35 Mb|
|ePub File Size:||15.22 Mb|
|Price:||Free* [*Free Regsitration Required]|
Ariettes oubliées (Debussy, Claude)
Authorship by Paul Verlaine -“Spleen”, appears in Romances sans parolesin Aquarellesno. Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations if applicable: Text added to the website: Gentle Reminder This website began in as a personal project, and I have been working on it full-time without a ddebussy since Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation.
Your gift is greatly appreciated. The material directly above is protected by copyright and appears here by special permission.
If you wish to copy it and distribute it, you must obtain permission or you will be breaking the law. Copyright infringement is a criminal offense under international law.
To reprint and distribute this author’s work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc. Please provide the translator’s name when contacting us.
Ariettes oubliées (Debussy, Claude) – IMSLP/Petrucci Music Library: Free Public Domain Sheet Music
Go to the text. Not all the material on this website is in the public domain. It is illegal to copy and distribute our copyright-protected material without permission.
For more information, contact us at the following address: Strauwen”Spleen”, . This vebussy began in as a personal project, and I have been working on it full-time without a salary since Dear, it only needs one move from you For all my despairs to reawaken. The sky was too blue, too tender, The sea too green and the air too mild.
I fear all the time, ever waiting, Some terrible flight from you. Of the holly with its varnished leaf And of the shining boxwood I am weary And of the never-ending countryside, And of everything, except you.