Serenade

Translations © by Salvador Pila

Song Cycle by Samuel Hans Adler (b. 1928)

View original-language texts alone: Serenade

1. The lamb  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English 
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and [bid]1 thee feed,
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:
He is callèd by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild:
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are callèd by His name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!

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1 MacNutt, Somervell: "bade"

by William Blake (1757 - 1827)
1. L'anyell
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Petit anyell, qui t’ha creat?
Saps qui et va crear?
Qui et donà la vida i t’oferí aliment,
prop del riu i arreu a les prades; 
et donà un vestit de delícia,
un abrigall flonjo de llana, blanc lluminós;
qui et donà una veu tan tendre
que alegra totes les valls?
Petit anyell, qui t’ha creat?
Saps qui et va crear?

Petit anyell, jo t’ho diré,
petit anyell, jo t’ho diré:
ell s’anomena amb el teu nom
car també es fa dir anyell.
Ell és dòcil i ell és benèvol,
ell esdevingué un petit infant.
Jo un infant i tu un anyell,
a tots dos se’ns crida pel Seu nom.
Petit anyell, que Déu et beneeixi!
Petit anyell, que Déu et beneeixi!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2014 by Salvador Pila, (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: 2014-03-12
Line count: 20
Word count: 122

Translation © by Salvador Pila
2. Mad song  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English 
The wild winds weep
  And the night is a-cold;
Come hither, Sleep,
  And my griefs unfold:
But lo! the morning peeps
  Over the eastern steeps,
And the rustling birds of dawn
  The earth do scorn. 

Lo! to the vault
  Of paved heaven,
With sorrow fraught
  My notes are driven:
They strike the ear of night,
  Make weep the eyes of day;
They make mad the roaring winds,
  And with tempests play. 

Like a fiend in a cloud,
  With howling woe,
After night I do crowd,
  And with night will go;
I turn my back to the east,
From whence comforts have increas'd;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.

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Note: said to have been written by Blake at the age of fourteen. First published in Poetical Sketches, 1783. In later editions of the poem, the word "unfold" in stanza 1, line 4 was changed to "infold".


by William Blake (1757 - 1827)
2. Cançó esbojarrada
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Els vents violents ploren
    i la nit és freda;
Vine cap aquí, son,
    i embolcalla les meves penes:
però alerta! El matí aguaita
    per damunt els espadats de llevant,
i els remorejants ocells de l’alba
    la terra menyspreen.

Compte! Vers la volta
    del cel empedrat,
carregades de tristesa,
    les meves notes son conduïdes:
colpegen l’orella de la nit,
    fan plorar els ulls del dia;
fan embogir els vents bramulants
    i juguen amb les tempestes.

Com un diable en un núvol,
    amb udolant aflicció,
passada la nit m’aplego
    i amb ella me’n aniré;
giro l’esquena a llevant,
des d’on els ànims s’han engrandit;
car la llum captura el meu cervell
amb frenètic dolor.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2014 by Salvador Pila, (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: 2014-03-12
Line count: 24
Word count: 113

Translation © by Salvador Pila
3. The shepherd  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English 
How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot!
   From the morn to the evening he strays;
He shall follow his sheep all the day,
   And his tongue shall be fillèd with praise.

For he hears the lamb's innocent call,
   And he hears the ewe's tender reply;
He is watchful [while]1 they are in peace,
   For they know when their Shepherd is nigh.

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1 Cooke: "when"

by William Blake (1757 - 1827)
3. El pastor
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Que n’és d’agradable, l’agradable fat del pastor!
    Vagareja des del matí fins al vespre;
seguirà les seves ovelles tot el dia
    i el seu parlar s’omplirà de lloances.

Car ell sent la crida innocent de l’anyell
    i escolta la tendra resposta de l’ovella;
les vigila que estiguin tranquil·les,
    Puix que elles saben quan el seu pastor és a prop.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2014 by Salvador Pila, (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: 2014-03-12
Line count: 8
Word count: 60

Translation © by Salvador Pila
4. The sick rose  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English 
O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

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by William Blake (1757 - 1827)
4. La rosa malalta
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Oh rosa, estàs malalta!
El verm invisible
que vola a la nit,
en la bramulant tempesta,

ha trobat el teu llit
de joia carmesí:
i el seu obscur amor secret
mina la teva vida.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2014 by Salvador Pila, (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: 2014-03-12
Line count: 8
Word count: 34

Translation © by Salvador Pila
5. The Tyger  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English 
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,  
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?  

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?  
On what wings dare he aspire?  
What the hand, dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?  

What the hammer? what the chain,  
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!  

When the stars threw down their spears  
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:  
What immortal hand or eye,  
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

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by William Blake (1757 - 1827)
5. El tigre
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Tigre, tigre, flama llampant,
a les selves de la nit,
quina mà o ulls immortals,
han pogut concebre la teva temible simetria?

A quins mars o cels llunyans
crema el foc dels teus ulls?
Damunt quines ales gosa aspirar?
Quina mà gosa agafar el foc?

I quin muscle o quina faiçó
han pogut tòrcer els tendons del teu cor?
I quan el teu cor començà a bategar,
quina mà temorosa? I quins peus temorosos?

Quin martell? Quina cadena,
en quin forn estava el teu cervell?
Quina enclusa? Quin aferrament temorós
gosa prendre llurs terrors mortals!

Quan les estrelles llançaren llurs llances
i el cel regà amb les seves llàgrimes:
somrigué al veure la seva obra?
El qui creà l’anyell, t’ha creat a tu?

Tigre, tigre, flama llampant,
a les selves de la nit,
quina mà o ulls immortals,
han pogut concebre la teva temible simetria?

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2014 by Salvador Pila, (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.
    Contact: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2014-03-12
Line count: 24
Word count: 145

Translation © by Salvador Pila