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Enfant, pour la lune prochaine,
Pour le convive inattendu!
Votre amant, Muses, peut sans peine
Tarir la coupe neuf fois pleine;
Mais les Grâces l'ont défendu.
Inclinez les lourdes amphores,
Effeuillez la rose des bois!
Anime tes flûtes sonores,
Ô Bérécinthe, et ce hautbois;
C'est à Glycère que je bois!

Téléphus, ta tresse si noire,
Tes yeux, ton épaule d'ivoire
Font pâlir Rhodé de langueur;
Mais Glycère brûle en mon coeur:
Je t'aime, ô Glycère, et veux boire!

...

Child, for the next moon,
For the unexpected guest!
Your lover, Muses, can easily
Dry up the cup nine times full;
But the Graces defended it.
Tilt the heavy amphorae,
Unravel the rose of the woods!
Liven up your sound flutes,
O Bérécinthe, and this oboe;
It is at Glycère that I drink!

Téléphus, your braid so black,
Your eyes, your ivory shoulder
Make Rhodé turn pale with languor;
But Glycere burns in my heart:
I love you, O Glycere, and want to drink!

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Thomas Oboe Lee Cambridge, Massachusetts

Thomas Oboe Lee was born in China in 1945. He lived in São Paulo, Brazil, for six years before coming to the United States in 1966. After graduating from the University of Pittsburgh, he studied composition at the New England Conservatory and Harvard University. He has been a member of the music faculty at Boston College since 1990. ... more

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