To a singer - On hearing her sing a old romance

Text by Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)
Translated into English by Joseph Massaad 

deutsch - franšais

I still recall the magic fair one,
How upon her my first glances fell!
And how her tones resounded sweetly,
How they conquered my heart secretly,
How down my cheeks the tears rolled fleetly -
But how I fared, I could not tell.

A dream had crept over my spirit:
It was as if I were a child one more,
Sitting in my mother's chamber, quiet
And silent by the lamp's glowing light,
Reading fairy tales, while in the night
I could hear the wind mightily roar.

The legends began with life to shine,
The knights leaped from their vaults of stone;
By Roncesvalles the battle rages,
Roland, riding, in fight engages,
And with him many valiant pages,
Including the traitor Ganelon.

By his fault is Roland ill-fated:
Breathless and swimming in blood he lies.
Hardly can his horn, at such distance,
Call the Great Charles for his assistance,
And so must end the knight's existence,
And with his demise my vision dies.

Then rose a loud and confused echo,
That, from my vision, awoke me.
Gone were the legend and its glamour,
The people's hands began to hammer
Their " bravos" added to the clamor,
And the singer bowed gracefully.