Già Ninfa hor voce (Iacopo Corfini)

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  • (Posted 2021-06-13)  CPDL #64760:         
Editor: Gerhard Weydt (submitted 2021-06-13).   Score information: A4, 9 pages, 236 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes:

General Information

Title: Già Ninfa hor voce
Composer: Iacopo Corfini
Lyricist: Giovanni Battista Amalteo
Number of voices: 6vv   Voicing: SATTBB

Genre: SecularMadrigal

Language: Italian
Instruments: A capella

First published: 1575 in Primo libro de madrigali a sei voci, no. 11
Description: For a different approach to the same text see Già nimfa hor voce (Alessandro Striggio).

External websites:

Original text and translations

Italian.png Italian text

Già Ninfa, hor voce, delle membra scossa,
E della voce altrui conforme imago,
Che tra riposte valli d’aer vago
Sol vai prendendo nutrimento e possa,
Mentre ch’al suon de miei lamenti mossa
Mi fai di duol e di morte presago,
L’alma mi trahe degl’ occhi un tristo lago,
Onde fuggir vorria la carne e l’ossa.
Se ricercando tregua a miei dolori
Grido: qual fin havrà si duro scempio?
“Empio”, rispondi, e mi turbi e spaventi;
E se d’alti sospiri il ciel riempio
E mercè chieggio a così lunghi amori,
“Mori!”, risoni ne gli estremi accenti.

German.png German translation

Einst Nymphe, nun Stimme, mit verstreuten Gliedern,
und nach anderer Aussage dem Abbild verglichen,
die du in versteckten Tälern von angenehmen Lüften
allein Nahrung und Kraft dir nehmend dich ergehst,
während du, vom Klang meiner Klagen bewegt,
mir Pein und Tod voraussagst,
entlässt die Seele aus meinen Augen einen tristen See,
aus dem sich entfernen möchte das Fleisch und die Gebeine.
Und wenn ich, Waffenstillstand erbittend für meine Schmerzen,
rufe: welches Ende wird meine harte Marter nehmen?
antwortest du: „Ruchloser!“ und erschreckst und verstörst mich;
und wenn ich mit lauten Seufzern den Himmel erfülle
und um Mitleid mit unserer langen Liebe bitte,
rufst du zurück: „Du stirbst.“ mit schrecklichem Ausdruck.

Translation by Gerhard Weydt
English.png English translation

Once nymph, now voice, with scattered limbs,
and by other voices likened to an image,
you that in hidden valleys only by taking in agreeable air
go around getting feed and power,
while you, moved by the sound of my laments,
prophesy me pain and death,
the soul draws out of my eyes a dismal lake,
out of which flesh and bones wish to flee.
And if, calling for a truce for my sufferings,
I cry: which end will have such hard torture,
“Impious”, you answer, and frighten and disturb me;
and if by heavy sighs I fill heaven
and call for mercy because of our long-enduring love,
“You die” you resound, with extreme accents.

Translation by Gerhard Weydt