A latter day Ronsard for alto and guitar

Description

Setting of a poem by S N Solomons inspired by the poem “Si tu t’imagines” by Raymond Queneau
(very different setting from the Joseph Kosma version of the original as sung by Juliette Greco!).
In the same way that Queneau reflected the “gather ye rosebuds” ideas of Ronsard,
the poem and the music here are a sort of 20th century re-imagining of the sentiment
with which Ronsard would have been familiar… in a neo-Renaissance style.

The setting is for alto (or countertenor) voice and guitar.
The file contains the full score for two performers and also a separate guitar part if the guitarist prefers to use that.

A latter Day Ronsard

If you but think,
Think on and on
My little one.
If you but think
It will go on …
Going for ever,
This time of love
This time for lovers,
You’re for a fall,
My little girl,
You’re for a fall

If you maintain
You will retain
Fine blushing skin
And waist cinched in
Delicate arms
Fine varnished nails
Tender of thigh
And fleet of foot,
And if you think my sweet
It will be true
Going for you
You’re for a fall
My little girl,
You’re for a fall.

Gone the good days,
Pleasure and holidays.
Planets in orbit
Circle around
But you my sweet
You will go straight
Toward the unknown
And overblown
with sagging skin
and treble chin
Heavy with fat
and flesh that’s slack

Come gather ye roses
Look ye around,
My little one
Blossoms abound
Let them repose
On the slack tide
Of every happiness.
So, gather them all
Or you’ll be sure
Pride comes before a fall

(c) S N Solomons

Original poem by Raymond Queneau

Fillette, fillette
Si tu t’imagines
Si tu t’imagines,
fillette, fillette
Si tu t’imagines
Xa va xa va va va
Va durer toujours
La saison des za
La saison des za
Saison des amours
Fillette, fillette
Ce que tu te gourres

Si tu crois petite
Si tu crois ah ah
Que ton teint de rose
Ta taille de guêpe
Tes mignons biceps
Tes ongles d’émail
Ta cuisse de nymphe
Et ton pied léger
Si tu crois qu’ça va
Xa va xa va xa va
Va durer toujours
fillette fillette
Ce que tu te gourres

Les beaux jours s’en vont
Les beaux jours de fête
Soleils et planètes
Tournent tous en rond
Mais toi ma petite
Tu marches tout droit
Vers c’que tu n’vois pas
Très sournois s’approchent
La ride véloce
La pesante graisse
Le menton triplé
Le muscle avachi

Allons cueille cueille
Les roses de la vie
Et que leurs pétales
Soient la mer étale
De tous les bonheurs
Allons cueille cueille
Si tu ne fais pas
Ce que tu te gourres
Ce que tu te gourres
(c) Raymond Queneau

 

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