The banks of Doon (Angelina Figus): Difference between revisions
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*{{PostedDate|2010-12-08}} {{CPDLno|22795}} [[Media:Figus-TheBanks.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:Figus-TheBanks.mp3|{{mp3}}]] | *{{PostedDate|2010-12-08}} {{CPDLno|22795}} [[Media:Figus-TheBanks.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:Figus-TheBanks.mp3|{{mp3}}]] [[Media:Figus-TheBanks.mxl|{{XML}}]] | ||
{{Editor|Angelina Figus|2010-12-08}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|5|122}}{{Copy|Personal}} | {{Editor|Angelina Figus|2010-12-08}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|5|122}}{{Copy|Personal}} | ||
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Latest revision as of 13:39, 4 February 2023
Music files
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- (Posted 2010-12-08) CPDL #22795:
- Editor: Angelina Figus (submitted 2010-12-08). Score information: A4, 5 pages, 122 kB Copyright: Personal
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: The banks of Doon
Composer: Angelina Figus
Lyricist: Robert Burns
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SSAB
Genre: Secular, Chanson
Language: English
Instruments: A cappella
First published:
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary, fu’ o’ care!
Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro’ the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o’ departed joys,
Departed, never to return!
Oft hae I rov’d by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o’ its luve,
And fondly sae did I o’ mine.
Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose,
Fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree;
And my fause luver staw my rose,
But, ah! He left the thorn wi’ me.
Italian text
Voi rive e pendii del bel Doon,
come potete fiorire così freschi e belli?
Come potete cantare, voi augelletti,
mentr’io sono così stanca e addolorata?
Mi spezzerai il cuore ,augel che gorgheggi,
saltellando fra lo spino in fiore:
tu mi ricordi gioie di un tempo,
gioie che furono, che non saranno più.
Spesso ho vagato presso il bel Doon,
Per vedere la rosa e il caprifoglio intrecciarsi,
ogni augello cantava del suo amore
e teneramente cantavo anch’io del mio.
Con cuore gaio colsi una rosa,
ricca di fragranza sulla pianta spinosa,
e il mio amor che m’ha tradita rubò la rosa,
ma, ahimè, lasciò a me la spina.