by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923)
Separated
Language: English
Available translation(s): FRE
Alas when thou went near I wish'd thee far But now thy distance is a jangling pain That all the harmony of life must mar. All day I murmur, "Wilt thou come again?" Unless thou wilt return, I sing no more; A hawk o'er towers the songbird of my heart; Leagues have I drifted on toward the shore of mute remorse Since we were driven apart For though to sing is more to me than breath, If I might only sing one worthy song Who sings beneath the basilisk eyes of death? Or, worse than death, the hovering wing of wrong? They have o'er me like a brooding mist That beams the mountains in the morning light, And blemishes the austered amethyst Of pleasure's grapes with grey mysterious blight. Alas when thou are near I wish'd thee far But now thy distance is a jangling pain That all the harmony of life must mar; All day I murmur, "Wilt thou come again?"
Authorship:
- by Francis Money-Coutts, 5th Baron Latymer (1852 - 1923) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Isaac Albéniz (1860 - 1909), "Separated" [voice and piano], from Six songs, no. 2. [text verified 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , title 1: "Séparés", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Jean-Pierre Granger
This text was added to the website: 2009-11-19
Line count: 20
Word count: 162