This is a modern-English version of Chamber Music, originally written by Joyce, James.
It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling,
and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If
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Chamber Music
by James Joyce
Contents With First Lines
I
Strings in the earth and air
Make music sweet;
Strings by the river where
The willows meet.
There’s music along the river
For Love wanders there,
Pale flowers on his mantle,
Dark leaves on his hair.
All softly playing,
With head to the music bent,
And fingers straying
Upon an instrument.
Strings in the ground and sky
Create sweet music;
Strings by the river where
The willows gather.
There’s music by the river
Because Love roams there,
Pale flowers on his cloak,
Dark leaves in his hair.
All gently playing,
With heads leaning into the music,
And fingers wandering
Across an instrument.
II
The twilight turns from amethyst
To deep and deeper blue,
The lamp fills with a pale green glow
The trees of the avenue.
The old piano plays an air,
Sedate and slow and gay;
She bends upon the yellow keys,
Her head inclines this way.
Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands
That wander as they list—
The twilight turns to darker blue
With lights of amethyst.
The twilight shifts from purple
To a deeper and deeper blue,
The lamp casts a soft green light
On the trees lining the avenue.
The old piano plays a tune,
Calm and slow and cheerful;
She leans over the yellow keys,
Her head tilting this way.
Shy thoughts and serious wide eyes and hands
That drift wherever they want—
The twilight deepens to darker blue
With hints of purple light.
III
At that hour when all things have repose,
O lonely watcher of the skies,
Do you hear the night wind and the sighs
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
The pale gates of sunrise?
When all things repose, do you alone
Awake to hear the sweet harps play
To Love before him on his way,
And the night wind answering in antiphon
Till night is overgone?
Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,
Whose way in heaven is aglow
At that hour when soft lights come and go,
Soft sweet music in the air above
And in the earth below.
At that hour when everything is still,
O lonely watcher of the skies,
Do you hear the night wind and the sighs
Of harps playing to Love to open
The pale gates of sunrise?
When everything is still, are you the only one
Awake to hear the beautiful harps play
For Love as he makes his way,
And the night wind responding in echo
Until night is gone?
Play on, invisible harps, to Love,
Whose path in heaven is bright
At that hour when soft lights flicker,
Soft sweet music in the air above
And in the earth below.
IV
When the shy star goes forth in heaven
All maidenly, disconsolate,
Hear you amid the drowsy even
One who is singing by your gate.
His song is softer than the dew
And he is come to visit you.
O bend no more in revery
When he at eventide is calling,
Nor muse: Who may this singer be
Whose song about my heart is falling?
Know you by this, the lover’s chant,
’Tis I that am your visitant.
When the shy star shines in the sky
All delicate and forlorn,
Can you hear, in the sleepy evening
Someone singing by your door?
His song is softer than the dew
And he has come to see you.
Oh, don’t stay lost in daydreams
When he’s calling at sunset,
And don’t wonder: Who could this singer be
Whose song is touching my heart?
Know this by the lover’s tune,
It’s me who’s come to visit you.
V
Lean out of the window,
Goldenhair,
I hear you singing
A merry air.
My book was closed,
I read no more,
Watching the fire dance
On the floor.
I have left my book,
I have left my room,
For I heard you singing
Through the gloom.
Singing and singing
A merry air,
Lean out of the window,
Goldenhair.
Lean out of the window,
Goldenhair,
I hear you singing
A cheerful tune.
My book was closed,
I didn’t read anymore,
Watching the fire dance
On the floor.
I’ve left my book,
I’ve left my room,
Because I heard you singing
Through the shadows.
Singing and singing
A cheerful tune,
Lean out of the window,
Goldenhair.
VI
I would in that sweet bosom be
(O sweet it is and fair it is!)
Where no rude wind might visit me.
Because of sad austerities
I would in that sweet bosom be.
I would be ever in that heart
(O soft I knock and soft entreat her!)
Where only peace might be my part.
Austerities were all the sweeter
So I were ever in that heart.
I would be in that sweet embrace
(Oh, it’s so sweet and beautiful!)
Where no harsh wind could reach me.
Because of harsh trials
I would be in that sweet embrace.
I would always be in that heart
(Oh, I gently knock and softly ask her!)
Where only peace would be my share.
Struggles would be so much sweeter
If I could always be in that heart.
VII
My love is in a light attire
Among the apple-trees,
Where the gay winds do most desire
To run in companies.
There, where the gay winds stay to woo
The young leaves as they pass,
My love goes slowly, bending to
Her shadow on the grass;
And where the sky’s a pale blue cup
Over the laughing land,
My love goes lightly, holding up
Her dress with dainty hand.
My love is dressed lightly
Among the apple trees,
Where the cheerful winds love to
Run around in groups.
There, where the playful winds linger to flirt
With the young leaves as they pass,
My love strolls slowly, leaning down to
Her shadow on the grass;
And where the sky is a pale blue bowl
Over the joyful land,
My love moves gently, lifting up
Her dress with a delicate hand.
VIII
Who goes amid the green wood
With springtide all adorning her?
Who goes amid the merry green wood
To make it merrier?
Who passes in the sunlight
By ways that know the light footfall?
Who passes in the sweet sunlight
With mien so virginal?
The ways of all the woodland
Gleam with a soft and golden fire—
For whom does all the sunny woodland
Carry so brave attire?
O, it is for my true love
The woods their rich apparel wear—
O, it is for my own true love,
That is so young and fair.
Who walks through the green woods With spring decorating everything? Who strolls through the cheerful green woods To make it even more joyful? Who walks in the sunlight On paths that feel the light footfalls? Who walks in the lovely sunlight With such an innocent grace? The paths of all the forest Shine with a soft and golden glow— For whom does all the sunny forest Dress in such beautiful attire? Oh, it's for my true love That the woods wear their rich clothing— Oh, it's for my own true love, Who is so young and lovely.
IX
Winds of May, that dance on the sea,
Dancing a ring-around in glee
From furrow to furrow, while overhead
The foam flies up to be garlanded,
In silvery arches spanning the air,
Saw you my true love anywhere?
Welladay! Welladay!
For the winds of May!
Love is unhappy when love is away!
Winds of May, that dance on the sea,
Dancing in a happy circle
From wave to wave, while overhead
The foam rises up to be adorned,
In shimmering arches across the sky,
Have you seen my true love anywhere?
Oh dear! Oh dear!
For the winds of May!
Love feels sad when love is gone!
X
Bright cap and streamers,
He sings in the hollow:
Come follow, come follow,
All you that love.
Leave dreams to the dreamers
That will not after,
That song and laughter
Do nothing move.
With ribbons streaming
He sings the bolder;
In troop at his shoulder
The wild bees hum.
And the time of dreaming
Dreams is over—
As lover to lover,
Sweetheart, I come.
Bright cap and streamers,
He sings in the hollow:
Come follow, come follow,
All you who love.
Leave dreams to the dreamers
Who won't move forward,
That song and laughter
Change nothing at all.
With ribbons flying
He sings more boldly;
In a group at his side
The wild bees buzz.
And the time for dreaming
Is over—
As lover to lover,
Sweetheart, I’m coming.
XI
Bid adieu, adieu, adieu,
Bid adieu to girlish days,
Happy Love is come to woo
Thee and woo thy girlish ways—
The zone that doth become thee fair,
The snood upon thy yellow hair,
When thou hast heard his name upon
The bugles of the cherubim
Begin thou softly to unzone
Thy girlish bosom unto him
And softly to undo the snood
That is the sign of maidenhood.
Say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye,
Say goodbye to your girlhood days,
Happy Love has come to court
You and charm your girlish ways—
The belt that suits you so well,
The hairband in your yellow hair,
When you hear his name on
The trumpets of the angels
Start to gently loosen
Your girlish heart to him
And softly take down the hairband
That symbolizes your maidenhood.
XII
What counsel has the hooded moon
Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet,
Of Love in ancient plenilune,
Glory and stars beneath his feet—
A sage that is but kith and kin
With the comedian Capuchin?
Believe me rather that am wise
In disregard of the divine,
A glory kindles in those eyes
Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine!
No more be tears in moon or mist
For thee, sweet sentimentalist.
What advice has the hooded moon
Put in your heart, my gently sweet,
About Love in the ancient full moon,
Glory and stars at his feet—
A wise one who is just like family
With the funny Capuchin?
Believe me instead, I’m wise
In ignoring the divine,
A glory sparks in those eyes
That quivers to starlight. Mine, oh Mine!
No more tears in the moon or mist
For you, sweet sentimentalist.
XIII
Go seek her out all courteously,
And say I come,
Wind of spices whose song is ever
Epithalamium.
O, hurry over the dark lands
And run upon the sea
For seas and lands shall not divide us,
My love and me.
Now, wind, of your good courtesy
I pray you go,
And come into her little garden
And sing at her window;
Singing: The bridal wind is blowing
For Love is at his noon;
And soon will your true love be with you,
Soon, O soon.
Go and find her kindly,
And tell her I’m coming,
Wind of spices whose song is always
A wedding hymn.
Oh, hurry across the dark lands
And run over the sea
For seas and lands won’t separate us,
My love and me.
Now, wind, with your good grace
I ask you to go,
And visit her little garden
And sing at her window;
Singing: The bridal wind is blowing
For Love is at its peak;
And soon your true love will be with you,
Soon, oh soon.
XIV
My dove, my beautiful one,
Arise, arise!
The night-dew lies
Upon my lips and eyes.
The odorous winds are weaving
A music of sighs:
Arise, arise,
My dove, my beautiful one!
I wait by the cedar tree,
My sister, my love,
White breast of the dove,
My breast shall be your bed.
The pale dew lies
Like a veil on my head.
My fair one, my fair dove,
Arise, arise!
My dove, my beautiful one,
Wake up, wake up!
The night dew rests
On my lips and eyes.
The fragrant winds are creating
A melody of sighs:
Wake up, wake up,
My dove, my beautiful one!
I’m waiting by the cedar tree,
My sister, my love,
White breast of the dove,
My chest will be your bed.
The pale dew lies
Like a veil on my head.
My lovely one, my lovely dove,
Wake up, wake up!
XV
From dewy dreams, my soul, arise,
From love’s deep slumber and from death,
For lo! the trees are full of sighs
Whose leaves the morn admonisheth.
Eastward the gradual dawn prevails
Where softly-burning fires appear,
Making to tremble all those veils
Of grey and golden gossamer.
While sweetly, gently, secretly,
The flowery bells of morn are stirred
And the wise choirs of faery
Begin (innumerous!) to be heard.
From dreamy thoughts, my soul, rise,
From love’s deep sleep and from death,
Because look! the trees are filled with sighs
Whose leaves the morning reminds.
Eastward, the slow dawn breaks
Where softly-burning fires show up,
Making all those veils shake
Of grey and golden delicate threads.
While sweetly, gently, quietly,
The flowery bells of morning chime
And the wise choirs of fairies
Start (countless!) to be heard.
XVI
O cool is the valley now
And there, love, will we go
For many a choir is singing now
Where Love did sometime go.
And hear you not the thrushes calling,
Calling us away?
O cool and pleasant is the valley
And there, love, will we stay.
O how cool and refreshing is the valley now
And there, my love, we will go
For many choirs are singing now
Where Love once roamed.
And don’t you hear the thrushes calling,
Calling us away?
O how cool and pleasant is the valley
And there, my love, we will stay.
XVII
Because your voice was at my side
I gave him pain,
Because within my hand I held
Your hand again.
There is no word nor any sign
Can make amend—
He is a stranger to me now
Who was my friend.
Because your voice was next to me
I caused him pain,
Because in my hand I held
Your hand again.
There are no words or signs
That can make things right—
He is now a stranger to me
Who used to be my friend.
XVIII
O sweetheart, hear you
Your lover’s tale;
A man shall have sorrow
When friends him fail.
For he shall know then
Friends be untrue
And a little ashes
Their words come to.
But one unto him
Will softly move
And softly woo him
In ways of love.
His hand is under
Her smooth round breast;
So he who has sorrow
Shall have rest.
Oh sweetheart, listen to
Your lover’s story;
A man will feel sadness
When friends let him down.
For he'll understand then
That friends are unfaithful
And their words turn to
A little ash.
But one will come to him
And gently approach
And softly court him
In ways of love.
His hand is beneath
Her smooth, curvy chest;
So he who feels sorrow
Will find peace.
XIX
Be not sad because all men
Prefer a lying clamour before you:
Sweetheart, be at peace again—
Can they dishonour you?
They are sadder than all tears;
Their lives ascend as a continual sigh.
Proudly answer to their tears:
As they deny, deny.
Don't be sad because all guys
Choose a loud lie over you:
Honey, find your peace again—
Can they really dishonor you?
They’re more miserable than tears;
Their lives rise as a constant sigh.
Proudly respond to their tears:
As they deny, deny.
XX
In the dark pine-wood
I would we lay,
In deep cool shadow
At noon of day.
How sweet to lie there,
Sweet to kiss,
Where the great pine-forest
Enaisled is!
Thy kiss descending
Sweeter were
With a soft tumult
Of thy hair.
O, unto the pine-wood
At noon of day
Come with me now,
Sweet love, away.
In the dark pine woods
I would lie with you,
In deep cool shade
At noon.
How nice it is to lie there,
Nice to kiss,
Where the great pine forest
Is like an island!
Your kiss coming down
Is even sweeter
With a soft rush
Of your hair.
Oh, to the pine woods
At noon
Come with me now,
Sweet love, let’s go.
XXI
He who hath glory lost, nor hath
Found any soul to fellow his,
Among his foes in scorn and wrath
Holding to ancient nobleness,
That high unconsortable one—
His love is his companion.
He who has lost his glory, and hasn’t
Found anyone to share his pain,
Among his enemies, filled with scorn and anger,
Clinging to old nobility,
That lofty, unaccompanied one—
His love is his only companion.
XXII
Of that so sweet imprisonment
My soul, dearest, is fain—
Soft arms that woo me to relent
And woo me to detain.
Ah, could they ever hold me there
Gladly were I a prisoner!
Dearest, through interwoven arms
By love made tremulous,
That night allures me where alarms
Nowise may trouble us;
But sleep to dreamier sleep be wed
Where soul with soul lies prisoned.
Of that sweet imprisonment,
My soul, my love, longs to be—
Soft arms that love me into submission
And hold me tenderly.
Ah, if they could ever keep me here,
I'd happily be a prisoner!
My love, through intertwined arms,
With love that makes us tremble,
That night calls to me where worries
Cannot disturb us at all;
But sleep should join dreamy sleep
Where one soul lies with another.
XXIII
This heart that flutters near my heart
My hope and all my riches is,
Unhappy when we draw apart
And happy between kiss and kiss;
My hope and all my riches—yes!—
And all my happiness.
For there, as in some mossy nest
The wrens will divers treasures keep,
I laid those treasures I possessed
Ere that mine eyes had learned to weep.
Shall we not be as wise as they
Though love live but a day?
This heart that beats close to mine
Holds my hopes and all I have,
Unhappy when we’re apart
And joyful between kisses;
My hopes and all my treasures—yes!—
And all my happiness.
For there, like in a cozy nest
The wrens keep various treasures,
I placed the treasures I had
Before my eyes learned to cry.
Shouldn’t we be as wise as they
Even if love lasts just a day?
XXIV
Silently she’s combing,
Combing her long hair,
Silently and graciously,
With many a pretty air.
The sun is in the willow leaves
And on the dappled grass,
And still she’s combing her long hair
Before the looking-glass.
I pray you, cease to comb out,
Comb out your long hair,
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air,
That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence,
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence.
Silently she’s brushing,
Brushing her long hair,
Silently and gracefully,
With many a charming flair.
The sun is shining through the willow leaves
And on the patterned grass,
And still she’s brushing her long hair
In front of the mirror.
I ask you, please stop brushing out,
Brushing out your long hair,
For I’ve heard of enchantment
Under a charming flair,
That makes everything feel the same to the lover
Coming and going away,
All beautiful, with many a charming flair
And many a casualness.
XXV
Lightly come or lightly go:
Though thy heart presage thee woe,
Vales and many a wasted sun,
Oread let thy laughter run
Till the irreverent mountain air
Ripple all thy flying hair.
Lightly, lightly—ever so:
Clouds that wrap the vales below
At the hour of evenstar
Lowliest attendants are;
Love and laughter song-confessed
When the heart is heaviest.
Come and go gently:
Even if your heart senses trouble,
Valleys and countless setting suns,
Oread, let your laughter flow
Until the carefree mountain air
Makes your hair dance everywhere.
Gently, gently—just like that:
Clouds covering the valleys below
At twilight
Are the humblest companions;
Love and laughter are sung aloud
When the heart feels its heaviest.
XXVI
Thou leanest to the shell of night,
Dear lady, a divining ear.
In that soft choiring of delight
What sound hath made thy heart to fear?
Seemed it of rivers rushing forth
From the grey deserts of the north?
That mood of thine, O timorous,
Is his, if thou but scan it well,
Who a mad tale bequeaths to us
At ghosting hour conjurable—
And all for some strange name he read
In Purchas or in Holinshed.
You lean against the shell of night,
Dear lady, with a listening ear.
In that gentle choir of joy
What sound has made your heart afraid?
Did it come from rivers rushing forth
From the gray deserts of the north?
That mood of yours, oh timid one,
Is his, if you just look closely,
Who leaves us a crazy story
At the haunting hour that's conjured—
And all for some strange name he read
In Purchas or Holinshed.
XXVII
Though I thy Mithridates were,
Framed to defy the poison-dart,
Yet must thou fold me unaware
To know the rapture of thy heart,
And I but render and confess
The malice of thy tenderness.
For elegant and antique phrase,
Dearest, my lips wax all too wise;
Nor have I known a love whose praise
Our piping poets solemnize,
Neither a love where may not be
Ever so little falsity.
Though I were your Mithridates,
Made to withstand the poison dart,
Still, you must wrap me up unaware
To feel the joy of your heart,
And I can only admit and confess
The cruelty of your tenderness.
For fancy and old-fashioned words,
Darling, my lips grow far too clever;
Nor have I experienced a love whose praise
Our singing poets celebrate,
Neither a love where there can't be
Ever so slight a falsehood.
XXVIII
Gentle lady, do not sing
Sad songs about the end of love;
Lay aside sadness and sing
How love that passes is enough.
Sing about the long deep sleep
Of lovers that are dead, and how
In the grave all love shall sleep:
Love is aweary now.
Gentle lady, don't sing
Sad songs about lost love;
Put away the sadness and sing
About how love that fades is enough.
Sing about the long deep sleep
Of lovers who have passed away, and how
In the grave all love will rest:
Love is tired now.
XXIX
Dear heart, why will you use me so?
Dear eyes that gently me upbraid,
Still are you beautiful—but O,
How is your beauty raimented!
Through the clear mirror of your eyes,
Through the soft sigh of kiss to kiss,
Desolate winds assail with cries
The shadowy garden where love is.
And soon shall love dissolved be
When over us the wild winds blow—
But you, dear love, too dear to me,
Alas! why will you use me so?
Dear heart, why do you treat me like this?
Dear eyes that gently criticize me,
You’re still beautiful—but oh,
How is your beauty dressed up!
Through the clear reflection in your eyes,
Through the soft sigh of every kiss,
Desolate winds attack with cries
The shadowy garden where love exists.
And soon love will fade away
When the wild winds come howling—
But you, dear love, too precious to me,
Alas! why do you treat me like this?
XXX
Love came to us in time gone by
When one at twilight shyly played
And one in fear was standing nigh—
For Love at first is all afraid.
We were grave lovers. Love is past
That had his sweet hours many a one;
Welcome to us now at the last
The ways that we shall go upon.
Love came to us long ago
When one played shyly at twilight
And one stood close, feeling scared—
For love at first is always afraid.
We were serious lovers. Love is past
That had many sweet hours;
Welcome to us now at last
The paths we will walk together.
XXXI
O, it was out by Donnycarney
When the bat flew from tree to tree
My love and I did walk together;
And sweet were the words she said to me.
Along with us the summer wind
Went murmuring—O, happily!—
But softer than the breath of summer
Was the kiss she gave to me.
Oh, it was out by Donnycarney
When the bat flew from tree to tree
My love and I walked together;
And sweet were the words she said to me.
With us, the summer wind
Whispered—Oh, happily!—
But softer than the breath of summer
Was the kiss she gave to me.
XXXII
Rain has fallen all the day.
O come among the laden trees:
The leaves lie thick upon the way
Of memories.
Staying a little by the way
Of memories shall we depart.
Come, my beloved, where I may
Speak to your heart.
Rain has fallen all day.
O come among the heavy trees:
The leaves are thick along the path
Of memories.
If we linger just a bit along
The path of memories, we’ll part.
Come, my love, where I can
Speak to your heart.
XXXIII
Now, O now, in this brown land
Where Love did so sweet music make
We two shall wander, hand in hand,
Forbearing for old friendship’ sake,
Nor grieve because our love was gay
Which now is ended in this way.
A rogue in red and yellow dress
Is knocking, knocking at the tree;
And all around our loneliness
The wind is whistling merrily.
The leaves—they do not sigh at all
When the year takes them in the fall.
Now, O now, we hear no more
The vilanelle and roundelay!
Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, before
We take sad leave at close of day.
Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything—
The year, the year is gathering.
Now, oh now, in this dull land
Where Love created such sweet music
We two will wander, hand in hand,
Forgiving for the sake of our old friendship,
And not feel sad because our love was joyful
Which has now ended this way.
A trickster in a red and yellow outfit
Is knocking, knocking at the tree;
And all around our loneliness
The wind is whistling happily.
The leaves—they don’t sigh at all
When the year takes them in the fall.
Now, oh now, we hear no more
The villanelle and roundelay!
Yet we will kiss, sweetheart, before
We sadly part at the end of the day.
Do not grieve, sweetheart, for anything—
The year, the year is drawing near.
XXXIV
Sleep now, O sleep now,
O you unquiet heart!
A voice crying “Sleep now”
Is heard in my heart.
The voice of the winter
Is heard at the door.
O sleep, for the winter
Is crying “Sleep no more.”
My kiss will give peace now
And quiet to your heart—
Sleep on in peace now,
O you unquiet heart!
Sleep now, oh sleep now,
oh you restless heart!
A voice calling “Sleep now”
is echoing in my heart.
The voice of winter
is heard at the door.
Oh sleep, for winter
is shouting “Sleep no more.”
My kiss will bring you peace now
and calm to your heart—
Sleep on in peace now,
oh you restless heart!
XXXV
All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is, when going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water’s
Monotone.
The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.
All day I listen to the sound of water
Making its mournful noise,
As sad as the seabird is when it goes
Out alone,
Hearing the wind call to the water’s
Monotone.
The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Wherever I go.
I hear the sound of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
Back and forth.
XXXVI
I hear an army charging upon the land,
And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees:
Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand,
Disdaining the reins, with fluttering whips, the charioteers.
They cry unto the night their battle-name:
I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter.
They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame,
Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon an anvil.
They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair:
They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore.
My heart, have you no wisdom thus to despair?
My love, my love, my love, why have you left me alone?
I hear an army charging across the land,
And the thunder of horses plunging, foam around their knees:
Arrogant, in black armor, behind them stand,
Disdaining the reins, with whipping flags, the charioteers.
They cry into the night their battle-name:
I moan in sleep when I hear from afar their whirling laughter.
They cut through the darkness of dreams, a blinding flame,
Clanging, clanging upon the heart like a hammer on an anvil.
They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair:
They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore.
My heart, don’t you have the wisdom to not despair?
My love, my love, my love, why have you left me alone?
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