Serenata para Tenor, Corno y Cuerdas
Translations © by Pablo Sabat
Song Cycle by (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976)
View original-language texts alone: Serenade for tenor, horn and strings
The day's grown old; the fainting sun Has but a little way to run, And yet his steeds, with all his skill, Scarce lug the chariot down the hill. The shadows now so long do grow, That brambles like tall cedars show; Mole hills seem mountains, and the ant Appears a monstrous elephant. A very little, little flock Shades thrice the ground that it would stock; Whilst the small stripling following them Appears a mighty Polypheme. And now on benches all are sat, In the cool air to sit and chat, Till Phoebus, dipping in the West, Shall lead the world the way to rest.
Authorship:
- by Charles Cotton (1630 - 1687)
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "Pastoral", copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , "Pastorale", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- NYN Norwegian (Nynorsk) (Are Frode Søholt) , "Hyrdedikt", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Pablo Sabat) , "Pastoral"
El día ha envejecido; al desfalleciente sol Le queda un corto camino que recorrer, Y sin embargo sus caballos, con toda su habilidad, Difícilmente tiran el carruaje abajo la colina. Ahora las sombras crecen tanto, Que arbustos como altos cedros se muestran; Montoncitos de tierra parecen montañas, y la hormiga Aparenta un monstruoso elefante. Un muy pequeño, pequeño grupo Crea una sombra en el suelo tres veces la que debiera; Mientras que el pequeño niño que lo sigue Parece un poderoso Polifemo. Y ahora en bancas están todos sentados, Al aire fresco para conversar, Hasta que Febo, hundiéndose en el Oeste, Lleve al mundo por el camino al reposo.
Authorship:
- Translation from English to Spanish (Español) by Pablo Sabat
Based on:
- a text in English by Charles Cotton (1630 - 1687)
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The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2013-05-26
Line count: 16
Word count: 109
The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long [light]1 shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory: Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, [Blow, bugle]2; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: [Blow, bugle;]2 answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, [And]2 [answer, echoes]3, dying, dying, dying.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Tennyson, Lord (1809 - 1892), no title, appears in The Princess, first published 1850
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , "Nocturne", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- NYN Norwegian (Nynorsk) (Are Frode Søholt) , "Nattstemning", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Pablo Sabat) , "Nocturno"
1 Britten: "night"
2 Britten: "Bugle, blow"; Holst: "Blow, bugle, blow"
3 Holst: "echoes, answer"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
El resplandor cae sobre los muros del castillo Y las antiguas cimas nevadas: Las largas y claras ondas a través de los lagos, Y la catarata furiosa salta en su gloria: Sopla, trompa, sopla, haz volar los salvajes ecos, Respondan, ecos, muriendo, muriendo, muriendo. O atiendan, oh, escuchen cuán ligeros y claros, Y más delgados y más claros se alejan! Oh dulce y lejano, desde monte y precipicio Las trompas del país de los elfos débilmente soplan! Sopla, déjanos oír los valles púrpura replicar; Sopla, trompa, respondan, ecos, muriendo, muriendo, muriendo. O amor, ellos mueren allá en el majestuoso cielo, Se desvanecen en colina, campo o arroyo: Nuestros ecos van de un alma a otra Y crecen por siempre y para siempre. Sopla, trompa, sopla, echa a volar los salvajes ecos, Y respondan, ecos, muriendo, muriendo, muriendo.
Authorship:
- Translation from English to Spanish (Español) by Pablo Sabat
Based on:
- a text in English by Alfred Tennyson, Lord (1809 - 1892), no title, appears in The Princess, first published 1850
Go to the single-text view
The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2013-05-26
Line count: 18
Word count: 137
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.
Authorship:
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "The sick rose", appears in Songs of Innocence and Experience, in Songs of Experience, no. 9, first published 1794
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "La rosa malalta", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , "La rose malade", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Walter A. Aue) , "Die erkrankte Rose", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Die kranke Rose", copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- IRI Irish (Gaelic) [singable] (Gabriel Rosenstock) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- NYN Norwegian (Nynorsk) (Are Frode Søholt) , "Elegi", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- RUS Russian (Русский) [singable] (Dmitri Nikolaevich Smirnov) , "Больная роза", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Pablo Sabat) , "Elegía"
¡Oh Rosa, tú estás enferma! El invisible gusano Que vuela en la noche, En la intensa tormenta, Ha encontrado tu lecho De júbilo carmesí: Y su oscuro amor secreto Destruye tu vida.
Authorship:
- Translation from English to Spanish (Español) by Pablo Sabat
Based on:
- a text in English by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "The sick rose", appears in Songs of Innocence and Experience, in Songs of Experience, no. 9, first published 1794
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The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2013-05-26
Line count: 8
Word count: 32
This ae nighte, this ae nighte, Every nighte and alle, Fire and [fleete]1 and candle-lighte, And Christe receive thy saule. When thou from hence away [art]2 past, Every nighte and alle, To Whinnymuir thou com'st at last; And Christe receive thy saule. If ever thou gav'st hos'n and shoon, Every nighte and alle, Sit thee down and put them on; And Christe receive thy saule. If hos'n and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane, Every nighte and alle, The winnies shall prick thee to the bare bane; And Christe receive thy saule. From Whinnymuir when thou may'st pass, Every nighte and alle, To Brig o' Dread thou com'st at last; And Christe receive thy saule. From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass, Every nighte and alle, To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last; And Christe receive thy saule. If ever thou gav'st meat or drink, Every nighte and alle, The fire shall never make thee shrink; And Christe receive thy saule. If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane, Every nighte and alle, The fire [will burn]3 thee to the bare bane; And Christe receive thy saule. This ae nighte, this ae nighte, Every nighte and alle, Fire and [fleete]1 and candle-lighte, And Christe receive thy saule.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author ( 15th century )
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , "Chant funèbre", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- NYN Norwegian (Nynorsk) (Are Frode Søholt) , "Sørgesong", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Pablo Sabat) , "Canto fúnebre"
1 Stravinsky: "sleete"
2 Stravinsky: "are"
3 Bax: "sall prick"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Esta misma noche, esta misma noche, Cada noche y todas, Fogón y casa y luz de velas, Y Cristo recibe tu alma. Cuando tú de aquí hayas partido, Cada noche y todas, Al páramo de las espinas llegarás finalmente; Y Cristo recibe tu alma. Si alguna vez diste medias y zapatos, Cada noche y todas, Siéntate y póntelos; Y Cristo recibe tu alma. Si medias y zapatos tú nunca diste, Cada noche y todas, Las espinas se te clavarán hasta los huesos; Y Cristo recibe tu alma. Del páramo de las espinas cuando puedas salir, Cada noche y todas, Al Puente de los Muertos llegarás finalmente; Y Cristo recibe tu alma. Del Puente de los Muertos, cuando puedas pasar, Cada noche y todas, Al fuego del Purgatorio llegarás finalmente; Y Cristo recibe tu alma. Si alguna vez diste carne o bebida, Cada noche y todas, El fuego nunca te consumirá; Y Cristo recibe tu alma. Si carne o bebida tú nunca diste, Cada noche y todas, El fuego te quemará hasta los huesos; Y Cristo recibe tu alma. Esta misma noche, esta misma noche, Cada noche y todas, Fogón y casa y luz de velas, Y Cristo recibe tu alma.
Authorship:
- Translation from English to Spanish (Español) by Pablo Sabat
Based on:
- a text in English by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist
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The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2013-05-26
Line count: 36
Word count: 200
Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heav'n to clear when day did close; Bless us then with wishèd sight, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short so-ever: Thou that mak'st a day of night, Goddess excellently bright.
Authorship:
- by Ben Jonson (1572 - 1637)
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , "Hymne", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- NYN Norwegian (Nynorsk) (Are Frode Søholt) , "Hymne", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Pablo Sabat) , "Himno"
Reina y cazadora, casta y bella, Ahora el sol se dispone a dormir, Sentada en tu trono de plata, Majestuosa te muestras: Héspero suplica por tu luz, Diosa excelentemente brillante. Tierra, no permitas que tu envidiosa sombra Ose ella misma interponerse; El brillante orbe de Cynthia fue hecho para El cielo aclarar cuando el día concluya; Bendícenos con tu añorada visión, Diosa excelentemente brillante. Deja tu arco de perlas a un lado, Y también tu brillante carcaj de cristal; Permite al venado que huye Tiempo para recuperar el aliento, ahora tan corto: Tú que transformas en día la noche, Diosa excelentemente brillante.
Authorship:
- Translation from English to Spanish (Español) by Pablo Sabat
Based on:
- a text in English by Ben Jonson (1572 - 1637)
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The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2013-05-26
Line count: 18
Word count: 102
O soft embalmer of the still midnight! Shutting with careful fingers and benign Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light, Enshaded in forgetfulness divine; O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes, Or wait the "Amen" ere thy poppy throws Around my bed its lulling charities. Then save me, or the passèd day will shine Upon my pillow, breeding many woes, - Save me from curious Conscience, that still [lords]1 Its strength for darkness, burrowing like [a]2 mole; Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards, And seal the hushèd Casket of my Soul.
Authorship:
- by John Keats (1795 - 1821), "To Sleep", written 1819?
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , "Sonnet", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Richard Flatter) , "Sonett an den Schlaf", appears in Die Fähre, Englische Lyrik aus fünf Jahrhunderten, first published 1936
- NYN Norwegian (Nynorsk) (Are Frode Søholt) , "Sonnette", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Pablo Sabat) , "Soneto"
First published in a Plymouth newspaper in 1838
1 changed to "hoards" by Richard Woodhouse, and kept by Keats in the second transcription. Chávez uses this version.
2 changed to "the" in Keats' second transcription. Chávez uses this as well.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
¡Oh suave embalsamador de la quieta medianoche! Cerrando con cuidadosos y benignos dedos Nuestros oscurecidos ojos, huídos de la luz, Ensombrecidos en olvido divino; ¡Oh Sueño más calmante! Si así lo deseas, cierra En medio de este pequeño himno mis obedientes ojos, O espera al "Amén" antes de que tu sopor arroje Alrededor de mi cama sus adormecedoras bondades. Luego sálvame, o el día concluido resplandecerá Sobre mi almohada, engendrando muchas aflicciones,- Sálvame de la curiosa Conciencia, que aún impone Su poder sobre la oscuridad, escarbando como un topo; Cierra hábilmente la llave en la aceitada cerradura, Y sella el silenciado cofre de mi Alma.
Authorship:
- Translation from English to Spanish (Español) by Pablo Sabat
Based on:
- a text in English by John Keats (1795 - 1821), "To Sleep", written 1819?
Go to the single-text view
The translator has released this translation into the public domain.This text was added to the website: 2013-05-26
Line count: 14
Word count: 105