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L’oratge s’adormissa i el cel és apagat; ocells de la bardissa, no desvetlleu l’Amat. Els pobres ulls són lassos quan l’hora baixa es fon i han fatigat sos braços tots els pecats del món. La llum se n’és anada del rostre sangonent; sa joventut, passada com una rosa al vent. Cloïa les parpelles al cap d’amunt d’un rost; de cara a les estrelles clavat en una post. L’oratge s’adormissa i el cel és apagat; ocells de la bardissa, no desvetlleu l’Amat.
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Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
This text was added to the website: 2014-06-09
Line count: 20
Word count: 81
The wind slumbers and the sky is dim; birds of the hedge, do not awake the Beloved. The frail eyes are weary when the evening melts away, and his arms have become tired of all the sins of the world. The brightness has left the blood-stained face, his youth, gone, like a rose in the wind. He closed his eyelids on the top of a hill; facing the stars, nailed to a plank. The wind slumbers and the sky is dim; birds of the hedge, do not awake the Beloved.
Text Authorship:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2014-06-09
Line count: 20
Word count: 90
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