Victor Hugo, a well-known nineteenth century French writer, and Maurice Journeau, a twentieth century French composer just born at the end of the previous century, have a little something in common...
The first one wrote early poetical miscellanies entitled Odes et Ballades (Odes and Ballads). And, among his odes, Le Matin (Morning) on April 1822 when he was twenty years old and La Demoiselle (The Damsel-fly) on May 1827 when he became a young man of twenty-five.
In the following century, the second one happened to discover them. He immediately was eager to set both of them to music. And did so on November 1922. He was then twenty-four years old.
Death and hope for eternity, Nature's beauty and healing power, one's own choice of life are not at all old-fashioned Romanticism. Those deep matters of the past remain of great importance to young people, nowadays and in all countries.

Translation: Chantal Virlet-Journeau

Odes et Ballades
Livre 5eme (1819-1828)
Ode 8eme : Le Matin

Le voile du matin sur les monts se déploie.
Vois, un rayon naissant blanchit la vieille tour -
Et déjà dans les cieux s'unit avec amour,
Ainsi que la gloire à la joie,
Le premier chant des bois aux premiers feux du jour.

Oui, souris à l'éclat dont le ciel se décore ! -
Tu verras, si demain le cercueil me dévore,
Un soleil aussi beau luire à ton désespoir,
Et les mêmes oiseaux chanter la même aurore,
Sur mon tombeau muet et noir!

Mais dans l'autre horizon l'âme alors est ravie.
L'avenir sans fin s'ouvre à l'être illimité.
Au matin de l'éternité
On se réveille de la vie,
Comme d'une nuit sombre ou d'un rêve agité.

Victor Hugo (avril 1822)

Odes et Ballades
Livre 4eme (1819-1827)
Ode 16eme : La Demoiselle

Quand la demoiselle dorée
S'envole au départ des hivers,
Souvent sa robe diaprée,
Souvent son aile est déchirée
Aux mille dards des buissons verts.

Ainsi, jeunesse vive et frêle,
Qui, t'égarant de tous côtés,
Voles où ton instinct t'appelle,
Souvent tu déchires ton aile
Aux épines des voluptés.

Victor Hugo (mai 1827)

Odes et Ballades
Book V (1819-1828)
Ode VIII: Morning

O'er mounts the morning's veil expands.
Behold, a rising beam the old tower whitens -
And lovingly unites already in heavens,
Like glory with joy,
The first singing of the woods with the coming daylight.

Yes, smile at the sky's ornemental brightness! -
You shall see, if to-morrow the coffin devours me,
A sun as beautiful shining at your despair,
And the same birds celebrating the same dawn,
Above my silent dark grave!

But in yonder horizon the soul now is enraptured.
The endless future is open to the unlimited being.
In the morning of eternity
One awakes from life,
As from a sombrous night or a restless dream.

Victor Hugo (April 1822)

Odes et Ballades
Book IV (1819-1827)
Ode XVI: The Damsel-fly

When the golden damsel
Flies away early in the winters,
Oft her mottled dress,
Oft her wing is torn
On a thousand green bushes' thorns.

Thus, youth, lively and frail,
That, wandering astray, flyest
Where thy natural bent calls thee,
Oft thou tear thy wing
On voluptuous desires' thorns.

Victor Hugo (May 1827)