Hérodiade, Act 1: Celui dont la parole… Il est doux, il est bon

He whose speech clears all sorrows,
The Prophet is here! I am going to him!
He is gentle, he is good, his word is serene:
He speaks... everything gets quiet...
Lighter on the plain
The attentive air passes without noise...
He speaks!
Ah! when will he come back?
When will I be able to hear him?
I suffered, I was alone and my heart calmed down
Listening to his melodious and tender voice,
My heart calmed down!
Beloved Prophet, can I live without you?
Beloved Prophet, can I live... live without you?
It's here! in this desert
Where the wondering crowd followed his steps,
Where he welcomed me, abandoned child,
And opened to me his arms!
He is gentle, he is good, his word is serene:
He speaks... everything gets quiet...
Lighter on the plain
The attentive air passes without noise...
He speaks!
Ah! When will he come back?
When will I be able to hear him?
I suffered, I was alone and my heart calmed down
Listening to his melodious and tender voice,
My heart calmed down!
Beloved Prophet, can I live without you?
Beloved Prophet, can I live... live without you?
Ah! When will he come back?
When will I be able to hear him?
Beloved Prophet, can I live without you?