My first hearing was on a Philadelphia
Orchestra record at age 6.
I learned this piece at age 14.
I can never ever
think of
it not being
in my mind.
Le zéphir à la douce haleine
 |
| Debussy in Reverie |
Entr'ouvre la rose des bois,
Et sur les monts et dans la plaine.
Il féconde tout à la fois.
S'échappent fleuris de ses doigts.
Le lys et la rouge verveine
Et chacun tréssaille à sa voix.
Tout s'enivre à sa coupe pleine
Qui se retire et fuit tremblante.
Mais il est une frêle plante
Le baiser qui va la meurtrir.
Qui sont comme les sensitives,
Or, je sais des âmes plaintives
Et que le bonheur fait mourir.
The zephyr with sweet breath
Half-opens the rose of the woods
And on the mountains and in the plain,
He makes everything fertile at the same time.
The lily and the red verbena
Escape bloomed by his fingers.
Everything becomes inebriated by his full cup
And each one quivers at his voice.
But it is a frail plant
That draws back and flees trembling.
The kiss that will wound it
And yet I know plaintive souls
Who are like sensitive plants,
And whom happiness causes to die.
