Mia benigna fortuna e 'l viver lieto: Difference between revisions
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{{Text|Italian}} | {{Text|Italian}} | ||
<poem> | <poem> | ||
Mia benigna fortuna e 'l viver lieto, | {{Verse|1}} Mia benigna fortuna e 'l viver lieto, | ||
i chiari giorni et le tranquille notti | i chiari giorni et le tranquille notti | ||
e i soavi sospiri e 'l dolce stile | e i soavi sospiri e 'l dolce stile | ||
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odiar vita mi fanno, et bramar morte. | odiar vita mi fanno, et bramar morte. | ||
Crudel, acerba, inexorabil Morte, | {{Verse|2}} Crudel, acerba, inexorabil Morte, | ||
cagion mi dài di mai non esser lieto, | cagion mi dài di mai non esser lieto, | ||
ma di menar tutta mia vita in pianto, | ma di menar tutta mia vita in pianto, | ||
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e 'l mio duro martir vince ogni stile. | e 'l mio duro martir vince ogni stile. | ||
Ove è condutto il mio amoroso stile? | {{Verse|3}} Ove è condutto il mio amoroso stile? | ||
A parlar d'ira, a ragionar di morte. | A parlar d'ira, a ragionar di morte. | ||
U' sono i versi, u' son giunte le rime, | U' sono i versi, u' son giunte le rime, | ||
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Or non parl'io, né penso, altro che pianto. | Or non parl'io, né penso, altro che pianto. | ||
Già mi fu col desir sí dolce il pianto, | {{Verse|4}} Già mi fu col desir sí dolce il pianto, | ||
che condia di dolcezza ogni agro stile, | che condia di dolcezza ogni agro stile, | ||
et vegghiar mi facea tutte le notti: | et vegghiar mi facea tutte le notti: | ||
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alto sogetto a le mie basse rime. | alto sogetto a le mie basse rime. | ||
Chiaro segno Amor pose a le mie rime | {{Verse|5}} Chiaro segno Amor pose a le mie rime | ||
dentro a' belli occhi, et or l'à posto in pianto, | dentro a' belli occhi, et or l'à posto in pianto, | ||
con dolor rimembrando il tempo lieto: | con dolor rimembrando il tempo lieto: | ||
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che mi sottragghi a sí penose notti. | che mi sottragghi a sí penose notti. | ||
Fuggito è 'l sonno a le mie crude notti, | {{Verse|6}} Fuggito è 'l sonno a le mie crude notti, | ||
e 'l suono usato a le mie roche rime, | e 'l suono usato a le mie roche rime, | ||
che non sanno trattar altro che morte, | che non sanno trattar altro che morte, | ||
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ch'è tanto or tristo quanto mai fu lieto. | ch'è tanto or tristo quanto mai fu lieto. | ||
Nesun visse già mai piú di me lieto, | {{Verse|7}} Nesun visse già mai piú di me lieto, | ||
nesun vive piú tristo et giorni et notti; | nesun vive piú tristo et giorni et notti; | ||
et doppiando 'l dolor, doppia lo stile | et doppiando 'l dolor, doppia lo stile | ||
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né contra Morte spero altro che Morte. | né contra Morte spero altro che Morte. | ||
Morte m'à morto, et sola pò far Morte | {{Verse|8}} Morte m'à morto, et sola pò far Morte | ||
ch'i' torni a riveder quel viso lieto | ch'i' torni a riveder quel viso lieto | ||
che piacer mi facea i sospiri e 'l pianto, | che piacer mi facea i sospiri e 'l pianto, | ||
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Amor alzando il mio debile stile. | Amor alzando il mio debile stile. | ||
Or avess'io un sí pietoso stile | {{Verse|9}} Or avess'io un sí pietoso stile | ||
che Laura mia potesse tôrre a Morte, | che Laura mia potesse tôrre a Morte, | ||
come Euridice Orpheo sua senza rime, | come Euridice Orpheo sua senza rime, | ||
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chiuda omai queste due fonti di pianto. | chiuda omai queste due fonti di pianto. | ||
Amor, i' ò molti et molt'anni pianto | {{Verse|10}} Amor, i' ò molti et molt'anni pianto | ||
mio grave danno in doloroso stile, | mio grave danno in doloroso stile, | ||
né da te spero mai men fere notti: | né da te spero mai men fere notti: | ||
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ove è colei ch'i' canto et piango in rime. | ove è colei ch'i' canto et piango in rime. | ||
Se sí alto pôn gir mie stanche rime, | {{Verse|11}} Se sí alto pôn gir mie stanche rime, | ||
ch'agiungan lei ch'è fuor d'ira et di pianto, | ch'agiungan lei ch'è fuor d'ira et di pianto, | ||
et fa 'l ciel or di sue bellezze lieto, | et fa 'l ciel or di sue bellezze lieto, | ||
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chiaro a lei giorno, a me fesse atre notti. | chiaro a lei giorno, a me fesse atre notti. | ||
O voi che sospirate a miglior' notti, | {{Verse|12}} O voi che sospirate a miglior' notti, | ||
ch'ascoltate d'Amore o dite in rime, | ch'ascoltate d'Amore o dite in rime, | ||
pregate non mi sia piú sorda Morte, | pregate non mi sia piú sorda Morte, | ||
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{{Translation|English}} | {{Translation|English}} | ||
<poem> | <poem> | ||
My kindly fate, and a life made happy, | {{Verse|1}} My kindly fate, and a life made happy, | ||
the clear days, and the tranquil nights, | the clear days, and the tranquil nights, | ||
the gentle sighs, and the sweet style | the gentle sighs, and the sweet style | ||
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making me hate my life, and long for death. | making me hate my life, and long for death. | ||
Cruel, bitter, and inexorable Death, | {{Verse|2}} Cruel, bitter, and inexorable Death, | ||
you give me reason never to be happy, | you give me reason never to be happy, | ||
but to live my life instead with weeping, | but to live my life instead with weeping, | ||
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and my harsh pain defeats every style. | and my harsh pain defeats every style. | ||
What has become of my loving style? | {{Verse|3}} What has become of my loving style? | ||
It speaks of anger, it reasons about death. | It speaks of anger, it reasons about death. | ||
Where are the verses, where is the rhyme, | Where are the verses, where is the rhyme, | ||
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Now I talk and think of nothing but weeping. | Now I talk and think of nothing but weeping. | ||
Once my desire so sweetened my weeping, | {{Verse|4}} Once my desire so sweetened my weeping, | ||
it touched with sweetness all my sour style, | it touched with sweetness all my sour style, | ||
and kept me awake through the long nights: | and kept me awake through the long nights: | ||
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the noble subject of my lowly rhyme. | the noble subject of my lowly rhyme. | ||
Love set a clear theme for my rhyme: | {{Verse|5}} Love set a clear theme for my rhyme: | ||
those lovely eyes, but now my weeping, | those lovely eyes, but now my weeping, | ||
remembering with grief times that were happy: | remembering with grief times that were happy: | ||
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to rescue me from such painful nights. | to rescue me from such painful nights. | ||
He has fled from me these cruel nights, | {{Verse|6}} He has fled from me these cruel nights, | ||
so have the usual sounds from my hoarse rhyme, | so have the usual sounds from my hoarse rhyme, | ||
that knows no other theme than death, | that knows no other theme than death, | ||
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that is as sad now as ever it was happy. | that is as sad now as ever it was happy. | ||
No one alive has ever been so happy, | {{Verse|7}} No one alive has ever been so happy, | ||
no one lives more sadly these days and nights: | no one lives more sadly these days and nights: | ||
and he doubles the grief, in a double style | and he doubles the grief, in a double style | ||
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and have no hope against Death, but Death. | and have no hope against Death, but Death. | ||
Death has killed me, and only Death | {{Verse|8}} Death has killed me, and only Death | ||
can make me see that face again, so happy | can make me see that face again, so happy | ||
that the sighs pleased me and the weeping, | that the sighs pleased me and the weeping, | ||
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Love elevating my weak style. | Love elevating my weak style. | ||
Now if I had so pity-inducing a style | {{Verse|9}} Now if I had so pity-inducing a style | ||
that I could bring my Laura back from Death, | that I could bring my Laura back from Death, | ||
as Orpheus did Eurydice, without rhyme, | as Orpheus did Eurydice, without rhyme, | ||
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will close for ever my two founts of weeping. | will close for ever my two founts of weeping. | ||
Love, I've had many years, and much weeping | {{Verse|10}} Love, I've had many years, and much weeping | ||
about my grave ills in the saddest style, | about my grave ills in the saddest style, | ||
nor from you do I ever hope for kinder nights: | nor from you do I ever hope for kinder nights: | ||
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to where she is, whom I sing and weep in rhyme. | to where she is, whom I sing and weep in rhyme. | ||
If it can rise so high, in weary rhyme, | {{Verse|11}} If it can rise so high, in weary rhyme, | ||
to reach her who's beyond pain and weeping, | to reach her who's beyond pain and weeping, | ||
and with her beauty makes heaven happy, | and with her beauty makes heaven happy, | ||
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brightened her day, and brought me dark night. | brightened her day, and brought me dark night. | ||
Oh you who sigh for easier nights, | {{Verse|12}} Oh you who sigh for easier nights, | ||
who hear of Love or speak of him in rhyme, | who hear of Love or speak of him in rhyme, | ||
pray he'll no longer be deaf to me, sweet Death, | pray he'll no longer be deaf to me, sweet Death, | ||
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He could make me happy in a single night: | He could make me happy in a single night: | ||
and, in harsh style and in anguished rhyme, | and, in harsh style and in anguished rhyme, | ||
I pray my weeping will end in death.</poem> | I pray my weeping will end in death. | ||
</poem> | |||
tr. [[Anthony S. Kline]] © | tr. [[Anthony S. Kline]] © | ||
{{btm}} | {{btm}} | ||
==External links== | ==External links== | ||
[[Category:Text pages]] | [[Category:Text pages]] |
Revision as of 09:47, 8 February 2015
General information
Lyricist: Francesco Petrarca; Translator: Anthony S. Kline
Settings by composers
Texts and Translations
Italian text 1 Mia benigna fortuna e 'l viver lieto, 2 Crudel, acerba, inexorabil Morte, 3 Ove è condutto il mio amoroso stile? 4 Già mi fu col desir sí dolce il pianto, 5 Chiaro segno Amor pose a le mie rime 6 Fuggito è 'l sonno a le mie crude notti, 7 Nesun visse già mai piú di me lieto, 8 Morte m'à morto, et sola pò far Morte 9 Or avess'io un sí pietoso stile 10 Amor, i' ò molti et molt'anni pianto 11 Se sí alto pôn gir mie stanche rime, 12 O voi che sospirate a miglior' notti, Canzoniere 332 |
English translation 1 My kindly fate, and a life made happy, 2 Cruel, bitter, and inexorable Death, 3 What has become of my loving style? 4 Once my desire so sweetened my weeping, 5 Love set a clear theme for my rhyme: 6 He has fled from me these cruel nights, 7 No one alive has ever been so happy, 8 Death has killed me, and only Death 9 Now if I had so pity-inducing a style 10 Love, I've had many years, and much weeping 11 If it can rise so high, in weary rhyme, 12 Oh you who sigh for easier nights, tr. Anthony S. Kline © |