Texts and Translations

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Texts and Translations
Texts and Translations
Texts and translations of the songs were provided by the artist and have not been edited by Vocal Arts DC.
“Ad una stella”
“To a star”
GIUSEPPE VERDI (1813–1901)
Poem by Andrea Maffei (1798–1885)
Bell’astro della terra,
Luce amorosa e bella,
Come desia quest’anima
Oppressa e prigioniera
Le sue catene infrangere,
Libera a te volar!
Beautiful star of the earth,
Amorous and beautiful light,
How desires this soul,
Oppressed and imprisoned,
To break its chains,
Free to fly to you!
Gl’ignoti abitatori
Che mi nascondi, o stella,
Cogl’angeli s’abbracciano
Puri fraterni amori,
Fan d’armonie cogl’angeli
La spera tua sonar.
The unknown inhabitants
That you hide from me, oh star,
Embrace with the angels
In pure brotherly love,
Making in harmony with the angels
Your sphere to sound.
Le colpe e i nostri affanni
Vi sono a lor segreti,
Inavvertiti e placidi
Scorrono i giorni e gli anni,
Nè mai pensier li novera,
Nè li richiama in duol.
Our faults and worries
Are secrets to them there;
Carefree and calm,
The days and years run by,
With no thought of counting them,
Nor recalling them in sadness.
Bell’astro della sera,
Gemma che il cielo allieti,
Come alzerà quest’anima
Oppressa e prigioniera
Dal suo terreno carcere
Al tuo bel raggio il vol!
Beautiful star of the night,
Gem in which heaven delights,
If only this soul could rise, this soul,
Oppressed and imprisoned,
From its earthly jail
To your beautiful ray in flight.
TRANSLATION: ROBERT GRADY
Texts and Translations
“Lo spazzacamino”
“The Chimney Sweep”
GIUSEPPE VERDI (1813–1901)
Poem by S. Manfredo Maggioni (1792–1870)
Lo spazzacamin! Son d’aspetto brutto
e nero,
Tingo ognun che mi vien presso;
Sono d’abiti mal messo,
Sempre scalzo intorno io vo.
The Chimney-sweep! I seem ugly
and black,
I stain everyone who presses against me;
I am badly dressed,
Ever barefoot around I go.
Ah! di me chi sia più lieto
Sulla terra dir non so.
Spazzacamin! Signori, signore, lo spazzacamin
Vi salva dal fuoco per pochi quattrin.
Ah! Signori, signore, lo spazzacamin!
Ah! Who could be as happy as I—
On earth I cannot say!
Chimney-sweep! Ladies and gentlemen,
the chimney-sweep
Will save you from fire for a few pennies.
Ah! ladies and gentlemen, the chimney-sweep!
Io mi levo innanzi al sole
E di tutta la cittade
Col mio grido empio le strade
E nemico alcun non ho.
I get up before the sun
And through all the city
With my cry I fill the streets
And I do not have one enemy.
Ah, di me chi sia più lieto
Sulla terra dir non so.
Spazzacamin! Signori, signore, lo spazzacamin
Vi salva dal fuoco per pochi quattrin.
Ah! Signori, signore, lo spazzacamin!
Ah! Who could be as happy as I—
On earth I cannot say!
Chimney-sweep! Ladies and gentlemen,
the chimney-sweep
Will save you from fire for a few pennies.
Ah! ladies and gentlemen, the chimney-sweep!
Talor m’alzo sovra i tetti,
Talor vado per le sale;
Col mio nome i fanciuletti
Timorosi e quieti io fo.
Now I rise to the rooftops
Now I go through the rooms
With my name the little children
Timid and quiet I make
Ah, di me chi sia più lieto
Sulla terra dir non so.
Spazzacamin! Signori, signore, lo spazzacamin
Ah! Who could be as happy as I—
On earth I cannot say!
Chimney-sweep! Ladies and gentlemen,
the chimney-sweep
Will save you from fire for a few pennies.
Ah! ladies and gentlemen, the chimney-sweep!
Vi salva dal fuoco per pochi quattrin.
Ah! Signori, signore, lo spazzacamin!
TRANSLATION: STUART WILLIAMS
Texts and Translations
“Il tramonto”
“Twilight”
GIUSEPPE VERDI (1813–1901)
Poem by Andrea Maffei (1798–1885)
Amo l’or del giorno che muore
Quando il sole già stanco declina,
E nell’onde di queta marina
Veggo il raggio supremo languir.
In quell’ora mi torna nel core
Un’età più felice di questa;
In quell’ora dolcissima e mesta
Volgo a te, cara donna, il sospir.
I love the time of the dying day
When the sun already weary declines,
And in the wave of the still sea
I see the last ray languish.
At this time there returns to my heart
An era happier than this one;
In this hour so very sweet and sad
My sigh turns to you, dear lady.
L’occhio immoto ed immoto il pensiero,
Io contemplo la striscia lucente
Che mi vien dal seren, dal sereno occidente
La quiete solcando, solcando del mar
E desio di quell’aureo sentiero
Ravviarmi sull’orma infinita
The eye fixed and fixed the thought,
I contemplate the radiant stream
That reaches me from the serene West
The placid furrowing of the sea
And I desire of this gilded path
To set my foot once more on the
endless way
As if it should my weary life
Guide to a haven of peace.
Quasi debba la stanca mia vita
Ad un porto di pace guidar.
TRANSLATION: STUART WILLIAMS
“Brindisi”
“A Toast”
GIUSEPPE VERDI (1813–1901)
Poem by Andrea Maffei (1798–1885)
Follia de’ prim’anni, fantasma illusor.
Pour me some wine! Only you, o glass,
of all the earthly pleasures, are not a liar.
You, life of the senses, joy of the heart.
I have loved; two fatal glances inflamed me;
I believed the friendship of the girl
without wings,
foolishness of youth, illusory imaginings.
Mescetemi il vino, letizia del cor.
Pour me some wine, joy of the heart.
L’amico, l’amante col tempo ne fugge,
Ma tu non paventi chi tutto distrugge:
L’età non t’offende, t’accresce virtù.
A friend, a lover will leave after a while,
but you have no fear of that which destroys all:
Age doesn’t offend you, it increases
your virtue.
April has faded, the roses have fallen,
You are the one that lightens troubling
worries,
It is you that brings back the joy that once was.
Mescetemi il vino! Tu solo, o bicchiero,
Fra gaudi terreni non sei menzognero,
Tu, vita de’ sensi, letizia del cor.
Amai; m’infiammaro due sguardi fatali;
Credei l’amicizia fanciulla senz’ali,
Sfiorito l’aprile, cadute le rose,
Tu sei che n’allegri le cure noiose:
Sei tu che ne torni la gioia che fu.
Texts and Translations
Mescetemi il vino, letizia del cor.
Pour me some wine, joy of the heart.
Chi meglio risana del cor le ferite?
Who better than you can heal the heart
of its wounds?
If you had not given us your
provident vine,
human pain would be immortal.
Pour me some wine! Only you, o glass,
of all the earthly pleasures, are not a liar.
You, life of the senses, joy of the heart.
Se te non ci desse la provvida vite,
Sarebbe immortale l’umano dolor.
Mescetemi il vino! Tu sol, o bicchiero,
Fra gaudi terreni non sei menzognero,
Tu, vita de’ sensi, letizia del cor.
TRANSLATION: LORETTA CASALAINA
KHk
“Montparnasse”
“Montparnasse”
FRANCIS POULENC (1899–1963)
Poem by Guillaume Apollinaire (1880–1918)
Ô porte de l’hôtel avec deux plantes vertes
Vertes qui jamais
Ne porteront de fleurs
Où sont mes fruits? Où me planté-je?
Ô porte de l’hôtel un ange est devant toi
Distribuant des prospectus
On n’a jamais si bien défendu la vertu
Donnez-moi pour toujours une chambre
à la semaine
Ange barbu vous êtes en réalité
Un poète lyrique d’Allemagne
Qui voulez connaître Paris
Vous connaissez de son pavé
Ces raies sur lesquelles il ne faut pas que l’on
marche
Et vous rêvez
D’aller passer votre Dimanche à Garches
Il fait un peu lourd et vos cheveux sont longs
Ô bon petit poète un peu bête et trop blond
Vos yeux ressemblent tant à ces deux
grands ballons
Qui s’en vont dans l’air pur
À l›aventure
Oh hotel door, with your two green plants
which will never
bear any flowers,
say: Where are my fruits? Where am I planting
myself?
Hotel door, an angel stands outside you
handing out leaflets
(virtue has never been so well defended!).
Give me in perpetuity a room at the
weekly rate.
Oh bearded angel, you are really
a lyric poet from Germany
who wants to get acquainted with Paris.
You know that between its paving-stones
there are lines which one must not step on.
And you dream
of spending Sunday at a mansion out of town.
The weather is a bit oppressive and your hair
is long;
oh good little poet, you’re rather stupid and
too blond.
Your eyes look so much like those two big
balloons
floating off in the pure air
wherever chance takes them...
TRANSLATION: PETER LOW
Texts and Translations
“Voyage à Paris”
“Going to Paris”
FRANCIS POULENC (1899–1963)
Poem by Guillaume Apollinaire (1880–1918)
Ah! la charmante chose
Quitter un pays morose
Pour Paris
Paris joli
Qu’un jour dût créer l’Amour.
Ah, how delightful it is
to leave a dismal place
and head for Paris!
Beautiful Paris,
which one day Love had to create!
TRANSLATION: PETER LOW
“C”
“C”
FRANCIS POULENC (1899–1963)
Poem by Louis Aragon (1897–1982)
J’ai traversé les ponts de Cé
C’est là que tout a commencé
Une chanson du temps passé
Parle d’un chevalier blessé
D’une rose sur la chaussée,
Et d’un corsage délacé
Du château d’un duc insensé,
Et des cygnes dans ses fossés
De la prairie où vient danser
Une éternelle fiancée
Et j’ai bu comme un lait glacé,
Le long des laïcs de gloires faussées
La Loire emporte mes pensées
Avec des voitures versées
Et les armes désamorcées
Et les larmes mal effacées
Oh ma France, ô ma délaissée;
J’ai traversé les ponts de Cé.
I have crossed the bridges of Cé,
It is there that it all began
A song of bygone days
Tells the tale of a wounded knight
Of a rose on the carriageway
And an unlaced bodice
Of the castle of a mad duke
And swans on the moats
Of the meadow where comes dancing
An eternal betrothed love.
And I drank like iced milk
The long lay of false glories
The Loire carries my thoughts away
with the
Overturned cars
And the unprimed weapons
And the ill-dried tears
Oh my France Oh my forsaken France
I have crossed the bridges of Cé.
Texts and Translations
“Reine des mouettes”
“Queen of the seagulls”
FRANCIS POULENC (1899–1963)
Poem by Louise Leveque de Vilmorin
(1902–1969)
Reine des mouettes, mon orpheline,
Je t’ai vue rose, je m’en souviens,
Sous les brunes mousselines
De ton deuil ancien.
Rose d’aimer le baiser qui chagrine
Tu te laissais accorder à mes mains
Sous les brunes mousselines
Voiles de nos liens.
Rougis, rougis, ma baiser te devine
Mouette prise aux noeuds des grands chemins.
Queen of the seagulls, my orphan,
I have seen you pink, I remember it,
Under the misty muslins
of your bygone mourning.
Pink that you liked the kiss which vexes you,
You surrendered to my hands
Under the misty muslins,
Veils of our bond.
Blush, blush, my kiss divines you,
Seagull captured at the meeting of the great
highways.
Reine des mouettes, mon orpheline
Tu étais rose accordée à mes mains
Rose sous les mousselines
Et je m’en souviens.
Queen of the seagulls, my orphan,
You were pink surrendered to my hands,
Pink under the muslins,
And I remember it.
“Bleuet”
“Cornflowers”
FRANCIS POULENC (1899–1963)
Poem by Guillaume Apollinaire (1880–1918)
Jeune homme
De vingt ans
Qui as vu des choses si affreuses
Que penses-tu des hommes de ton enfance
Tu connais la bravoure et la ruse,
Tu as vu la mort en face plus de cent fois
Young man,
20 years old,
You who have seen such frightful things,
What do you think of the men of your
childhood?
You know gallantry and deceit.
You have seen death face to face more than
a hundred times.
Tu ne sais pas ce que c’est que la vie
Transmets ton intrépidité
À ceux qui viendront
Après toi
You do not know what life is.
Transmit your lack of fear
to those who will come
after you.
Jeune homme
Tu es joyeux, ta mémoire est ensanglantée
Young man,
you are joyous, your memory is stained with
blood.
Your soul is also red.
With joy,
you have absorbed the lives of those who died
near you.
You have determination.
Ton âme est rouge aussi
De joie
Tu as absorbé la vie de ceux qui sont morts près
de toi
Tu as de la décision
Texts and Translations
Il est 17 heures et tu saurais
It is five in the afternoon, and you should
know
how to die,
if not better than your elders,
at least more piously,
for you know death better than life.
Oh, for the sweetness of other times,
the slowness of time immemorial.
Mourir
Sinon mieux que tes aînés
Du moins plus pieusement
Car tu connais mieux la mort que la vie
Ô douceur d›autrefois,
Lenteur immémoriale.
KHk
“Nocturne”
“Nocturne”
JOSEPH MARX (1882–1964)
Poem by Otto Erich Hartleben (1864–1905)
Süß duftende Lindenblüte
in quellender Juninacht.
Eine Wonne aus meinem Gemüte
ist mir in Sinnen erwacht.
Sweet scented linden blossom
in swelling June night,
a delight from my soul
awakened to my mind.
Als klänge vor meinen Ohren
leise das Lied vom Glück,
als töne, die lange verloren
die Jugend leise zurück.
As if the song of joy
sounded softly in my ears,
as if long-lost youth
resounded quietly back to me.
Süß duftende Lindenblüte
in quellender Juninacht.
Eine Wonne aus meinem Gemüte
ist mir zu Schmerzen erwacht.
Sweet scented linden blossom
in swelling June night,
a delight from my soul
awakened as pain.
TRANSLATION: HÉLÈNE LIDQVIST
“Selige Nacht”
“Blissful Night”
JOSEPH MARX (1882–1946)
Poem by Otto Erich Hartleben (1864–1905)
Im Arm der Liebe schliefen wir selig ein,
Am offnen Fenster lauschte der Sommerwind,
Und unsrer Atemzüge Frieden
Trug er hinaus in die helle Mondnacht.—
In the arms of love we fell blissfully asleep;
at the open window the summer wind listened
and carried the peacefulness of our breath
out into the bright, moonlit night.
Und aus dem Garten tastete zagend sich
Ein Rosenduft an unserer Liebe Bett
Und gab uns wundervolle Träume,
Träume des Rausches —so reich an Sehnsucht!
And out of the garden, feeling its way randomly,
the scent of roses came to our bed of love
and gave us wonderful dreams,
dreams of intoxication, rich with yearning.
TRANSLATION COPYRIGHT © BY EMILY EZUST, FROM
THE LIED, ART SONG, AND CHORAL TEXTS ARCHIVE—
HTTP://WWW.LIEDER.NET/
Texts and Translations
“Die Elfe”
“The Elf ”
JOSEPH MARX (1882–1964)
Poem by Josef Karl Benedikt von Eichendorff
(1788–1857)
bedeckt mit Mondesglanze,
Johanneswürmchen erleuchten den Saal,
die Heimchen spielen zum Tanze.
Stay with us! We have covered a clearing in
the dell
with moonlight for the dance;
fireflies illuminate the hall
and crickets are playing dance-music.
Die Freude, das schöne leichtgläubige Kind,
[es]2 wiegt sich in Abendwinden:
Wo Silber auf Zweigen und Büschen rinnt,
da wirst du die Schönste finden.
Joy, the fair, overcredulous child,
is lulled by the evening winds;
where silver runs on branch and bush
you will find the fairest girl.
Bleib bei uns! Wir haben den Tanzplan im Tal
TRANSLATION COPYRIGHT © BY EMILY EZUST,
FROM THE LIED, ART SONG, AND CHORAL TEXTS ARCHIVE—
HTTP://WWW.LIEDER.NET/
“Christbaum”
“Christmas Tree”
JOSEPH MARX (1882–1964)
Poem by Christiane Rosalia Friederik
(1839–1901)
Hörst auch du die leisen Stimmen
aus den bunten Kerzlein dringen?
die vegessenen Gebete
aus den Tannenzweiglein singen?
Do you also hear the soft voices
coming from the colorful little candles?
The forgotten prayers
singing from the little branches of the fir tree?
Hörst auch du das schüchternfrohe,
helle Kinderlachen klingen?
Schaust auch du den stillen Engel
mit den reinen weissen Schwingen?
Do you also hear the timid but happy
bright laughter of children ringing?
Do you also see the silent angel
with the pure white wings?
Schaust auch du dich selber wieder,
fern und fremd dich wie im Traume?
Grüsst auch dich mit Märchenaugen
deine Kindheit aus dem Baume?
Deine Kindheit!
Do you also see yourself again?
Strangely, from a distance, like a dream?
Does your childhood greet you
like a fairytale from the tree?
Your childhood!
Texts and Translations
“Hat dich die Liebe berührt”
“If Love Hath Entered Thy Heart”
JOSEPH MARX (1882–1964)
Poem by Paul Heyse (1830–1914)
Hat dich die Liebe berührt,
Still unterm lärmenden Volke
Gehst du in goldner Wolke,
Sicher von Gott geführt.
If love hath entered thy heart,
Still midst the tumult of people,
Walking in golden sunlight,
Safely by God thou’rt led.
Nur wie verloren, umher
Lässest die Blicke du wandern,
Gönnst ihre Freuden den Andern,
Trägst nur nach einem Begehr.
As lost in dreams thou dost go,
Gazing on all things around thee,
Leaving to others their pleasures,
Led by one only desire.
Scheu in dich selber verzückt,
Möchtest du leugnen vergebens,
Daß nun die Krone des Lebens
Strahlend die Stirn dir schmückt.
Shy, in thyself thou dost draw,
Yet wouldst deny it, how vainly,
That now the crown of thy lifetime,
Shining thy brow adorns.
KHk
“Cinco canciones popolares argentias”
“Five Popular Argentinian Songs”
ALBERTO GINASTERA (1916-1983)
Traditional Folk Poems
“Chacarera”
“Chacarera”
A mí me gustan las ñatas
Y una ñata me ha tocado
Ñato será el casamiento
Y más ñato el resultado.
Cuando canto chacareras
Me dan ganas de llorar
Porque se me representa
Catamarca y Tuoumán.
I love girls with little snub noses
and a snub-nose girl is what I’ve got.
Ours will be a snub-nose wedding
and snub-nosed children will be our lot.
Whenever I sing a chacarera
it makes me want to cry,
because it takes me back to
Catamarca and Tuoumán.
TRANSLATION: JACQUELINE COCKBURN
Texts and Translations
“Triste”
“Sad”
Ah!
Debajo de un limón verde
Donde el agua no corría
Entregué mi corazón
A quien no lo merecía.
Ah!
Beneath a lime tree
where no water flowed
I gave up my heart
to one who did not deserve it.
Ah!
Triste es el día sin sol
Triste es la noche sin luna
Pero más triste es querer
Sin esperanza ninguna.
Ah!
Sad is the sunless day.
Sad is the moonless night.
But sadder still is to love
with no hope at all.
“Zamba”
“Zamba”
Hasta las piedras del cerro
Y las arenas del mar
Me dicen que no te quiera
Y no te puedo olvidar.
Si el corazón me has robado
El tuyo me lo has de dar
El que lleva cosa ajena
Con lo suyo ha de pagar
Ay!
Even the stones on the hillside
and the sand in the sea
tell me not to love you.
But I cannot forget you.
If you have stolen my heart
then you must give me yours.
He who takes what is not his
must return it in kind.
Ay!
“Arrorró”
“Lullaby”
Arrorró mi nene,
Arrorró mi sol,
Arrorró pedazo
De mi corazón.
Este nene lindo
Se quiere dormir
Y el pícaro sueño
No quiere venir.
Lullaby my baby;
lullaby my sunshine;
lullaby part
of my heart.
This pretty baby
wants to sleep
and that fickle sleep
won’t come.
Texts and Translations
“Gato”
“The Cat”
El gato de mi casa
Es muy gauchito
Pero cuando lo bailan
Zapateadito.
Guitarrita de pino
Cuerdas de alambre.
Tanto quiero a las chicas,
Digo, como a las grandes.
Esa moza que baila
Mucho la quiero
Pero no para hermana
Que hermana tengo.
Que hermana tengo
Si, pónte al frente
Aunque no sea tu dueño,
Digo, me gusta verte.
The cat of the house
is most mischievous,
but when they dance,
they stamp their feet.
With pine guitars
and wire strings.
I like the small girls
as much as the big ones.
That girl dancing
is the one for me.
Not as a sister
I have one already.
I have a sister.
Yes, come to the front.
I may not be your master
but I like to see you.
TRANSLATION: JACQUELINE COCKBURN
KHk
“The cloak, the boat, and the shoes”
“This heart that flutters”
BEN MOORE (1960–)
Poem by William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)
BEN MOORE (1960–)
Poem by James Joyce (1882–1941)
‘What do you make so fair and bright?’
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.
‘I make the cloak of Sorrow:
O lovely to see in all men’s sight
Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,
In all men’s sight.’
‘What do you build with sails for flight?’
‘I build a boat for Sorrow:
O swift on the seas all day and night
Saileth the rover Sorrow,
All day and night.’
‘What do you weave with wool so white?’
‘I weave the shoes of Sorrow:
Soundless shall be the footfall light
In all men’s ears of Sorrow,
Sudden and light.’
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?
Texts and Translations
“The Lake Isle of Innisfree”
“I would in that sweet bosom be”
BEN MOORE (1960–)
Poem by William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)
BEN MOORE (1960–)
Poem by James Joyce (1882–1941)
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there,
a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
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.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace
comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to
where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon
a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
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 will arise and go now, for always night
and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds
by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on
the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
KHk