Fra "Hoffmanns Eventyr":

Belle nuit, ô nuit d'amour,
Souris à nos ivresses,
Nuit plus douce que le jour,

Le temps fuit et sans retour
Emporte nos tendresses,
Loin de cet heureux séjour.

Zéphyrs embrasés,
Versez-nous vos caresses,
Donnez-nous vos baisers!

Des cendres de ton coeur
réchauffe ton génie,
dans la serenité
souris à tes douleurs!
La Muse apaisera
ta souffrance benie . . . .

On est grand par l'amour
et plus grand par les pleurs.

Fra "Oklahoma"

Oh, what a beautiful morning
There's a bright golden haze on the meadow,
The corn is as high as an elephant's eye,
An' it looks like it's climbin' clear up to the sky.

Oh, what a beautiful mornin',
Oh, what a beautiful day.
I got a beautiful feelin'
Ev'rything's goin' my way.

All the cattle are standin' like statues,
They don't turn their heads as they see me ride by,
But a little brown mav'rick is winkin' her eye.

All the sounds of the earth are like music,
The breeze is so busy it don't miss a tree,
And an ol' weepin' willer is laughin' at me!

People will say we're in love
Why do they think up stories that link my name with yours?
Why do the neighbors chatter all day, behind their doors?
I know a way to prove what they say is quite untrue.
Here is the gist, a practical list of "don'ts" for you.
Don't throw bouquets at me
Don't please my folks too much
Don't laugh at my jokes too much
Don't sigh and gaze at me
Your sighs are so like mine
Your eyes mustn't glow like mine
Don't start collecting things
Give me my rose and my glove.
Sweetheart, they're suspecting things

Some people claim that you are to blame as much as I.
Why do y' take the trouble to bake my favorite pie?
Grantin' your wish, I carved our initials on that tree.
Jist keep a slice of all the advice you give so free.
Don't praise my charm too much
Don't look so vain with me
Don't stand in the rain with me
Don't take my arm too much
Don't keep your hand in mine
Your hand feels so grand in mine
Don't dance all night with me
Till the stars fade from above.
They'll see it's alright with me

where the wind comes sweepin down the plain, and the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet, when the wind comes right behind the rain.
Oklahoma, ev'ry night my honey lamb and I sit alone and talk and watch a hawk makin' lazy circles in the sky.
We know we belong to the land and the land we belong to is grand! And when we say: Yeow! Ayipioeeay! We're only sayin', "You're doin' fine, Oklahoma! O.K."

Fra "Den Glade Enke"

Sangen om Vilja
Det var sig den Vilja, den skovenes fe, en jæger på bjerget han fik hende se. Da kom der så sælsom en brand i hans blod, han blændet af skovfeens dejlighed stod. Og en angst, han aldrig følte, greb på stand den ungersvend; længselsfuldt sukked han da for sig hen:

Vilja, o Volja, skovfe så fin, trøst mig og kryst mig, ak var jeg blot din! Vilja, o Vilja, hvad er der dog sket? aldrig så angst har jeg bedt.

Den skovfe hun strakte sin hånd ham imod og drog ham til hulen ved klippernes fod. Og svenden forgik alle sanser på stand; så elskede aldrig en kvinde en mand. Da hun mæt var af hans mund, forsvandt hun i den samme stund. End en gang staklen bad og sukked kun:

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