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Philippe de Monte
(1521 - 1603)
Bonjour, mon coeur
(S.A.A.T.T.B.)
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Bonjour, mon coeur
(S.A.A.T.T.B.)
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From de Monte's collection of settings from Ronsard, Louvain, 1575.
Lyrics: Pierre de Ronsard
Bon iour mon coeur, bon iour ma douce vie, bon iour mon oeuil, bon iour ma chere amie.
He bon iour ma toute belle, ma mignardise, bon iour mes delices, mon amour,
Mon doux printems, ma douce fleur nouvelle, mon doux plaisir, ma douce colombelle,
Mon passereau, ma gente tourterelle. Bon iour ma douce rebelle.
Ie veux mourir si plus on me reproche que mon service est plus froid qu'une roche,
De t'avoir laissé maitresse pour aller suivre le roy, mandiant ie ne sçay quoy,
Que le vulgaire appelle une largesse, plustost périsse honneur, cour et richesse,
Que pour les biens iamais ie te relaisse, ma douce et belle déesse.
Hello my heart, hello my sweet life, hello my eye, hello my dear friend,
Hey! hello my beauty, my cuteness, hello, my delight, my love,
My sweet spring, my sweet new flower, my sweet pleasure, my sweet little squab,
My sparrow, my gentle turtledove, hello, my sweet rebel.
I want to die if anyone reproaches me further, that my manner is as cold as a rock,
For having left you, mistress, to attend the King, begging, I don't know how,
What the vulgar call a pile; soon honour, position and riches perish;
I will never relinquish you for these benefits, my sweet and beautiful goddess.
Bon iour mon coeur, bon iour ma douce vie, bon iour mon oeuil, bon iour ma chere amie.
He bon iour ma toute belle, ma mignardise, bon iour mes delices, mon amour,
Mon doux printems, ma douce fleur nouvelle, mon doux plaisir, ma douce colombelle,
Mon passereau, ma gente tourterelle. Bon iour ma douce rebelle.
Ie veux mourir si plus on me reproche que mon service est plus froid qu'une roche,
De t'avoir laissé maitresse pour aller suivre le roy, mandiant ie ne sçay quoy,
Que le vulgaire appelle une largesse, plustost périsse honneur, cour et richesse,
Que pour les biens iamais ie te relaisse, ma douce et belle déesse.
Hello my heart, hello my sweet life, hello my eye, hello my dear friend,
Hey! hello my beauty, my cuteness, hello, my delight, my love,
My sweet spring, my sweet new flower, my sweet pleasure, my sweet little squab,
My sparrow, my gentle turtledove, hello, my sweet rebel.
I want to die if anyone reproaches me further, that my manner is as cold as a rock,
For having left you, mistress, to attend the King, begging, I don't know how,
What the vulgar call a pile; soon honour, position and riches perish;
I will never relinquish you for these benefits, my sweet and beautiful goddess.