“DALLA PORTA D’ORIENTE” (CACCINI)
Lightning flashed in the sky and exited
through the gates of the orient [lit. in the East],
The dawn exited and colored the clouds with pure light
Dawn with dewy breezes opened lilies,
Spread open roses
From the enamored lips
Love moves with new arrows
and with oriental pearls
They go around the soul adorned
Poor hearts
Sweet fire of rubies
From two splendid lamps
Such a flame descended
that the earth in turn burned
and in the heavens the starts shone
And if the sun came out,
Would have burned the sun again.
— Translation by Constance Cook
and Adam Klein
I cry all day, and finally the night,
When mortal miseries take repose,
I find myself in tears, with bad things doubled;
In this way, do I spend my time crying?
— Translation by Constance Cook
and Adam Klein
“TORNA, DEH TORNA” [ROMANSECA]
(Caccini)
Return, come back darling,
Come back, without you, I have no heart.
Where are you hiding? Oh dear!
What have I done to you?
I don’t see you, I don’t feel your love, O Love?
Run into my arms at last,
Spread into oblivion this sour sadness
With which my heart is destroyed.
Hear the feeble sound of my voice
Between crying and sighing,
demanding forgiveness.
— Translation by Constance Cook
and Adam Klein
(FRESCOBALDI)
In this way you despise me?
Like this you make fun of me?
The time will come, Love,
that love will make of your heart,
that which you make of mine.
What! This is my destiny,
No more words,
Goodbye.
You give me torture,
You deny me mercy,
You offend my faithfulness,
you will at last meet your destiny
(you will see in yourself what you are making of me)
Beauty will not always reign,
as you will learn,
in your total disregard for my faithfulness.
Believe me, that if you kill me today,
tomorrow you will repent.
I don’t deny that you have lovely qualities,
But I know that with time beauty flees and passes.
If you don’t wish to love me, I don’t want to suffer.
Your blonde locks, your purple cheek,
will leave now, faster than I will.
Prize them then, so that I will have the last laugh.
— Translation by Constance Cook
and Adam Klein
“AUCH MIT GEDÄMPFTEN,
SCHWACHEN STIMMEN” (J.S. BACH)
Even with with muted, feeble voices
will God’s majesty be revered.
Even the sound of a solitary spirit
is to him
such a cry
that in heaven was ever heard.
— Translation by Laurie Israel
(J.S. BACH)
The poor will the Lord embrace
with mercy, far and wide [lit. here and there]
He gives to them as a present
out of his mercy
the highest gift – the word of life.
— Translation by Laurie Israel
“JESUS SOLL MEIN ERSTES WORT”
(J.S. BACH)
“Jesus” will be my first word
spoken in the day of resurrection
[lit. in the “New Year”]
On and on, his name burbles in my mouth.
And in my last hour,
Jesus will be my last word.
— Translation by Laurie Israel
(TEARS THAT MUST EVER FALL) (HAYDN)
A youth, adorn’d with ev’ry art
To warm and win the coldest heart,
In secet, mine possest:
The morning bud that fairest blows,
The vernal ok that straitest grows,
His shape and face exprest.
In moving sounds he told his tale,
Soft as the sighings of the gale
That wakes the flowery year.
What wonder he could charm with ease
Whom happy Nature form’d to please,
Whom Love had made sincere.
At morn he left me, — fought, and fell,
That fatal evening heard his knell,
And saw the tears I shed:
Tears that must ever, ever fall;
For, ah! no sight the past recall,
No cries awake the dead!
— David Mallet
“THE MOON HAD CLIMB’D THE HIGHEST HILL
(MARY’S DREAM) (HAYDN)
The moon had clim’d the highest hill
Which rises o’er the source of Dee,
And from the Eastern summit shed
Her silver light o’er tow’r and tree.
When Mary laid her down to sleep,
Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea;
When soft and low a voice was hear
Say, “Mary, weep no more for me.”
She from her pillow gently rais’d
Her head, to ask who there might be –
She saw young Sandy shiv’ring stand,
With visage pale, and hollow eye;
“O Mary dear, cold is my clay,
“It lies beneath a stormy sea;
“Far, far, from thee, I sleep in death;
“So, Mary, weep no more for me.
“Three stormy nights and stormy days
“We toss’d upon the raging main;
“And long we strove our bark to save,
“But all our striving was in vain.
“Ev’n then, when horror chill’d my blood
“My heath was fill’d with love for thee:
“The storm is past, and I at rest,
“So, Mary, weep no more for me.
“O maiden dear, thyself prepare,
“We soon shall meet upon that shore,
“Where love is free from doubt and care,
“And thou and I shall part no more.”
Loud crow’d the cock, the show fled,
No more of Sandy could she see;
But soft the passing spirit said,
“Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.”
— John Lowe
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