texts, translations, notes - Monteverdi

Williams Chamber Choir
Monteverdi Madrigals
Texts & Translations
Sì ch’io Vorrei Morire
Yes, I would like to die
Sì ch’io vorrei morire
ora ch’io bacio, Amore,
la bella bocca del mio amato core.
Ahi, cara e dolce lingua,
datemi tant’umore,
che di dolcezz’in questo sen m’estingua!
Ahi, vita mia, a questo bianco seno,
deh, stringetemi fin ch’io venga meno!
Ahi bocca, ahi baci, ahi lingua, torn’a dire:
Sì, ch’io vorrei morire.
Yes, I would like to die,
now that I kiss, Love,
the beautiful mouth of my beloved.
Ah, dear and sweet tongue,
give me such a feeling
that from sweetness I expire on this breast!
Ah, my life, on this white bosom,
oh, press me until I swoon!
Ah, mouth, ah, kisses, ah, tongue, I say again:
Yes, I would like to die.
Maurizio Moro
Anima del cor mio
Spirit of my heart
Anima del cor mio
poi da che me, misera me, ti parti,
s’ami confort’alcun a’miei martiri,
non isdegnar ch’almen ti segu’anch’io,
solo co’ miei sospiri
e sol per rimembrarti,
ch’in tante pen’e’n così fiero scempio
vivrò d’amor di vera fede esempio.
Spirit of my heart,
since you are leaving me, wretched me,
if you take pleasure in some solace for my pain,
don’t scorn the fact that at least I am following you too,
only with my sighs
and only to remember you,
so that in such distress, such cruel slaughter
I shall live as an example of love and true faith.
author unknown
Cruda Amarilli
Cruel Amaryllis
Cruda Amarilli, che col nome ancora,
d’amar, ahi lasso,
amaramente insegni;
Amarilli, del candido ligustro
più candida e più bella,
ma de l’aspido sordo
e più sorda e più fera e più fugace;
poi che col dir t’offendo,
i’ mi morò tacendo.
Cruel Amaryllis, who even with your name,
to love, alas,
instruct bitterly;
Amaryllis, more pure and beautiful
than the white privet,
but more deaf and more fierce and more fleeting
than the deaf asp;
since in speaking I offend you,
I will die in silence.
Gian Bittista Guarini
Piagne e sospira
She wept and sighed
Piagn’e sospira; e quand’i caldi raggi
fuggon la greggia a la dolc’ombra assise,
ne la scorza de’ pini o pur de’ faggi
segnò l’amato nome in mille guise
e de la sua fortuna i gravi oltraggi
e i vari casi in dura scorza incise;
E in rileggendo poi le proprie note,
Spargea di pianto le vermiglie gote.
She wept and sighed; and when the sun’s rays
had abandoned the flock, resting in the gentle shade,
on the bark of pine tree or beech
she wrote her beloved’s name in a thousand fashions
and carved in hard bark the deep sufferings
and the many twists of her fortune;
and then, reading her own messages again,
she moistened her vermillion cheeks with tears.
Torquato Tasso
Cor Mio, Non Mori?
My Heart, you do not die?
Cor mio, non mori? e mori!
L’idolo tuo, ch’è tolto
a te, sia tosto in altrui braccia accolto.
Deh, spezzati, mio core!
Lascia, lascia con l’aura anco l’ardore;
ch’esser non può che ti reserbi in vita
senza speme e aita.
Su, mio cor, mori! Io moro, io vado; a Dio,
dolcissimo ben mio.
My heart, you do not die? Die!
Your idol, who has been taken
from you, will soon be embraced by other arms.
Ah, break, my heart!
Leave, leave with the air your ardor as well;
for it is not possible for you to remain alive
without hope and aid.
Come, my heart, die! I die, I depart, farewell,
My sweetest love.
author unknown
Dorinda, ah! dirò “mia”
Dorinda, ah! shall I then call you mine
Dorinda, ah! dirò “mia” se mia non sei,
se non quando ti perdo e quando morte
da me ricevi, e mia non fosti allora
ch’i’ ti potei dar vita?
Pur “mia” dirò, che mia
sarai mal grado di mia dura sorte;
e, se mia non sarai con la tua vita,
sarai con la mia morte.
Dorinda, ah! shall I then call you mine,
even if you are mine only when I lose you and
when you die
by my hand, and though you were not mine
when I was able to give you life?
Yet I shall call you mine, for mine you shall be
in spite of my harsh destiny;
and, if you will not be mine while you live,
you shall be mine when I die.
Gian Battista Guarini
Cor mio, mentre vi miro
My heart’s delight while I gaze on you
Cor mio, mentre vi miro,
visibilmente mi trasform’ in voi,
e trasformato poi,
in un solo sospir l’anima spiro.
O bellezza, bellezza mortale,
O bellezza, bellezza vitale,
poi che si tosto un core
per te rinasce, e per te nato more.
My heart’s delight, while I gaze on you
I am visibly transformed into you;
and, thus transformed,
I breathe out my soul in a single sigh.
O beauty, death-bringing beauty!
O beauty, life-giving beauty!
Since no sooner do you bring
a heart to life, then, born for you, it dies.
Gian Bittista Guarini
Anima dolorosa
Anima dolorosa
Anima dolorosa che vivendo
tanto peni e tormenti
quant’odi e parli e pensi e miri e senti,
ancor spiri? Che speri? Ancor dimori
in questa viva morte? in quest’inferno
de le tue pene eterno?
Mori, misera, mori!
Che tardi più, che fai?
Perché, mort’al piacer, vivi al martire?
Perché vivi al morire?
Consuma il duol che ti consuma omai,
di questa morte che par vita uscendo.
Mori meschina, il tuo morir morendo.
Sorrowful spirit, whose life
is but pain and torment,
whatever you hear, say, think, see and feel do you aspire to love? What hopes have you?
Do you still cling to this living death, in this inferno
of eternal suffering?
Die, wretched one, die!
Why delay longer? What are you doing?
Why, dead to pleasure, do you live for martyrdom?
Why live to die?
Consume the sadness which devours you ever;
leave this death that seems to be life.
Die, miserable creature, and be done with death!
author unknown
Era l’anima mia
My life was already
Era l’anima mia
già presso a l’ultim’ore
e languia come langue alma che more;
quand’anima più gradita
volse lo sguardo in sì pietoso giro,
che mi manten’ in vita.
Parean dir que’ bei lumi:
“Deh, perché ti consumi?
Non m’è sì caro il cor, ond’io respiro,
come se’ tu, cor mio;
se mori, ohimè, non mori tu, mor’io.”
My life was already
nearing its last hour,
languishing with the languor of a dying soul,
when a more beautiful and gracious soul
turned its gaze on me with so compassionate a glance
that it kept me in life.
For those lovely eyes seemed to say:
“Ah! Why are you thus dying away?
The very heart by which I live and breathe
is not so dear to me as you, my heart;
and, if you die, alas! it is yet not you but I who die.”
Gian Battista Guarini
Ch’io t’ami
I love you
Ch’io t’ami, e t’ami più de la mia vita,
se tu nol sai, crudele,
chiedilo a queste selve,
che tel diranno, e tel diran con esse
le fere loro e i duri sterpi e i sassi
di questi alpestri monti,
ch’i’ ho sì spesse volte
inteneriti al suon de’ miei lamenti.
If you do not know, O cruel one, that I love you,
and that I love you more than my own life,
then ask these forests,
and they will tell you, as will
the wild beats and the hard stumps and stones
of these harsh mountains,
which I have so often moved to pity
with the sound of my lamenting.
Gian Battista Guarini
O Mirtillo
O Mirtillo
O Mirtillo, Mirtillo, anima mia,
se vedessi qui dentro
come sta il cor di questa
che chiami crudelissima Amarilli,
so ben che tu di lei
quella pietà, che da lei chiedi avresti.
Oh anime in amor troppo infelici!
Che giova a te, cor mio, l’esser amato?
Che giova a me l’aver sì caro amante?
Perchè, crudo destino,
ne disunisci tu, s’Amor ne stringe?
e tu, perché ne stringi,
se ne parte il destin, perfido Amore?
O Mirtillo, Mirtillo, my love,
if only you could see
the inner life and feelings of her
whom you call most cruel Amarilli,
I know well that you would feel for her
that same pity which you ask of her.
Oh, our souls are too unhappy in love!
What joy is there, my heart, in being loved?
What joy is there for me in having so dear a lover?
Why, cruel Destiny,
do you divide us when Love unites us?
And why do you unite us,
treacherous Love, when Destiny divides us?
Gian Battista Guarini