by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)
Translation © by Ferdinando Albeggiani

My love is strengthen'd, though more...
Language: English 
Our translations:  ITA
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear:
That love is merchandized whose rich esteeming
The owner's tongue doth publish every where.
Our love was new and then but in the spring
When I was wont to greet it with my lays,
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days:
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
  Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue,
  Because I would not dull you with my song.

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Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (François-Victor Hugo) , no title, appears in Sonnets de Shakespeare, no. 102, first published 1857
  • ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , "E' più forte il mio amore, anche se più debole appare", copyright © 2007, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2003-11-02
Line count: 14
Word count: 117

E' più forte il mio amore, anche se più  debole appare
Language: Italian (Italiano)  after the English 
E' più forte il mio amore, anche se più debole appare,
Non amo io di meno, anche se non lo manifesto: 
Ché mercanteggia amore chi ne esalta il valore
Dappertutto parlando di questo suo possesso.
L'amore nostro era giovane, nella sua primavera,
quando lo celebravo con i miei canti,
Come, all'inizio d'estate, canta Filomela
Per poi tacere quando la stagione è avanti:
Non che l'estate ora sia gradita di meno
Di quando i suoi mesti canti placavano le notti,
Ma ora di musica suona ogni ramo pieno
E le dolcezze, ripetute, non danno più diletto.
Perciò, come lei, talvolta in silenzio resto,
Ché non vorrei, col mio canto, esserti molesto.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to Italian (Italiano) copyright © 2007 by Ferdinando Albeggiani, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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This text was added to the website: 2007-10-27
Line count: 14
Word count: 110