by Pierre Jean de Béranger (1780 - 1857)
Translation by Sarah Carter Edgarton Mayo
Le vieux vagabond
Language: French (Français)
Dans ce fossé cessons de vivre, Je finis vieux, infirme et las. Les passants vont dire: il est ivre! Tant mieux: Ils ne me plaindront pas. J'en vois qui détournent la tête; D'autres me jettent quelques sous. Courez vite; allez à la fête, Vieux vagabond, je puis mourir sans vous. Oui, je meurs ici de vieillesse, Parce qu'on ne meurt pas de faim. J'espérais voir de ma détresse L'hôpital adoucir la fin. Mais tout est plein dans chaque hospice, Tant le peuple est infortuné. La rue, hélas! fut ma nourrice: Vieux vagabond, mourons où je suis né. Aux artisans, dans mon jeune âge, J'ai dit: qu'on m'enseigne un métier. Va, nous n'avons pas trop d'ouvrage, Répondaient-ils; va mendier. Riches qui me disiez: Travaille, J'eus bien des os de vos repas; J'ai bien dormi sur votre paille: Vieux vagabond, je ne vous maudis pas. J'aurais pu voler, moi pauvre homme; Mais non: mieux vant tender la main: Au plus, j'ai dérobé la pomme Qui mûrit au bord du chemin. Vingt fois pourtant on me verrouille Dans les cachots, de par le roi. De mon seul bien l'on me dépouille: Vieux vagabond, le soleil est à moi. La pauvre a-t-il une patrie? Que me font vos vins et vos blés, Votre gloire et votre industrie, Et vos orateurs assemblés? Dans vos murs ouverts à ses armes, Lorsque l'étranger s'engraissait, Comme un sot j'ai versé des larmes: Vieux vagabond, sa main me nourrissait. Comme un insecte, fait pour nuire, Hommes, que ne m'écrasiez vous? Ah! plutôt deviez m'instruire A travailler au bien de tous. Mis à l'abri du vent contraire Le ver fût devenu fourmi; Je vous aurais chéris en frère: Vieux vagabond, je meurs votre ennemi.
E. Lalo sets stanzas 1-2, 5-6
Authorship:
- by Pierre Jean de Béranger (1780 - 1857), "Le vieux vagabond" [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Edouard Lalo (1823 - 1892), "Le vieux vagabond", 1849, stanzas 1-2,5-6 [ voice and piano ], from Six romances populaires de P. J. Béranger, no. 6, Paris, Éd. Mme Veuve Launer [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Franz (Ferenc) Liszt (1811 - 1886), "Le vieux vagabond", S. 304 (<<1849) [ bass and piano ], also set in German (Deutsch) [sung text checked 1 time]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by Theobald Rehbaum (1835 - 1918) ; composed by Franz Liszt.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Anonymous/Unidentified Artist)
- ENG English (Sarah Carter Edgarton Mayo)
- ENG English (William Young) , "The old vagabond", appears in Béranger: two hundred of his lyrical poems done into English verse, first published 1850
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 48
Word count: 284
Here in this ditch, I'll end Life's day
Language: English  after the French (Français)
Here in this ditch, I'll end Life's day; I die infirm, and old, and worn; 'He's drunk !' the passers-by will say; 'T is well; they will not need to mourn. Some turn their heads; a few at least; From others a few sous are thrown; Run quickly, hasten to the feast! -- Old vagabond, sure I can die alone. Yes, here I perish of old age, For one of hunger never dies; I hoped th' asylum would assuage, At least, my dying agonies. But every ward is full, and worse, So many people are forlorn! The street, alas, was my first nurse. Old vagabond, I'll die where I was born. To laborers I in youth applied; Teach me, I said, some honest trade; "Scarce can we for ourselves provide; Go beg !" was the reply they made. "Work !" said the rich. Some bones to gnaw I had from you, I will allow; 'Tis true, I slept upon your straw. Old vagabond, I will not curse you now. I could have stolen, I, poor wretch; But no, I rather chose to be A beggar; or, at most, to catch An apple from the wayside tree. A score of times on me they drew The prison bolts, by king's decree; They stole the only wealth I knew; Old vagabond, the sun's, at least, for me. A country -- has the poor man one? For me, what have your grain and wine, Your industry and glory done? Your throngs of orators divine? Ah, when the armies of the foe Were fattening on your open lands, How like a fool my tears did flow! Old vagabond, they fed me from their hands. Men, will you crush me like a worm, Made but to injure and corrode? Oh, rather you my life should form To labor for the general good. When sheltered from the adverse wind, The worm into the ant will grow; I would have cherished all mankind. Old vagabond! Alas! I die your foe!
About the headline (FAQ)
Authorship:
- by Sarah Carter Edgarton Mayo ( as Mrs. S.C.E. Mayo )  [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by Pierre Jean de Béranger (1780 - 1857), "Le vieux vagabond"
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- [ None yet in the database ]
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2011-04-21
Line count: 48
Word count: 331