Voga, voga, il vento tace,
pura è l'onda, il ciel sereno,
solo un alito di pace
par che allegri e cielo e mar:
voga, voga, o marinar.

Or che tutto a noi sorride,
in sí tenero momento,
all'ebrezza del contento
voglio l'alma abbandonar.
Voga, voga, o marinar.

Chè se infiera la tempesta,
ambedue ne tragge a morte,
sarà lieta la mia sorte
al tuo fianco vuò spirar [sí].
Voga, voga, o marinar.

Row, row, the wind has died,
the water is pure, the sky bright,
only a breath of peace
seems to cheer both sky and sea.
Row, row, sailor.

Now that everything smiles upon us,
in such a tender moment,
to the exhilaration of happiness
I want to abandon my soul.
Row, row, sailor.

Because if a storm should rage
and carry us both to our death,
it will be my happy fate
to die at your side.
Row, row, sailor.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2016 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Leopoldo Tarantini (1811 - 1882)
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This text was added to the website: 2016-02-15
Line count: 15
Word count: 80

Colle piume sul cimiero,
tutto chiuso in armatura,
vene un giorno il cavaliero
alla dama del suo cor
a nunziarle una sventura
d'acerbissimo dolor:
"Il vessillo della Croce
vuò seguire in Palestina."
"Ah crudele! ah crudele!"
ma qui la voce
della misera languì.
Il guerrier baciò Clarina
e qual folgore sparì [ah sì.]
Dopo un lustro alla sua dama
ei tornò di gloria carco,
ma Clarina indarno ei chiama
a dividere l'onor:
d'una pietra il freddo in carco
riposava sul suo cor,
Ah crudele! ah crudele!

With plumes on his helmet,
in full armor,
a gentleman came one day
to the lady of his heart
to announce to her an event
of the bitterest pain:
“The banner of the Cross–
I want to follow it to Palestine.”
“Ah cruel one, ah cruel one!”
But here the voice
of the unhappy lady faded.
The warrior kissed Clarina
and like lightning he disappeared [ah, yes].
After five years, to his lady
he returned, covered with glory,
but he calls on Clarina in vain
to share his honor;
the cold weight of a stone
rested on her heart.
Ah cruel one, ah cruel one!

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2016 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Carlo Guaita
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This text was added to the website: 2016-01-20
Line count: 20
Word count: 105

Quando notte sarà oscura
e le stelle in ciel vedrai,
cheto, cheto mi verrai
nel mio asilo a ritrovar.
Nel silenzio della notte
dentr'all'umile mio tetto,
vieni pure, o mio diletto,
la tua ninfa a consolar:
canta pur la tua canzone
ch'io t'attendo sul balcone.
ah!

Ma non debbo a te soltanto
aprir l'uscio a notte bruna:
coprirebbesi la luna
vereconda in suo pudor.
Noi due soli non saremo,
verecondia nol consente,
vuò che un terzo sia presente
e quel terzo sia l'amor.
Canta pur la tua canzone,
ch'io t'attendo sul balcone,
io t'attendo a mezzanotte,
cheto cheto ne verrai,
noi due soli non saremo,
vuò che il terzo sia l'amor.
ah!

When night turns dark
and you see the stars in the sky,
silently, silently, you will come
to find my solitary dwelling.
In the silence of night
inside, under my humble roof,
come then, o my delight,
to make your darling happy.
Sing your song
while I wait for you on the balcony.
Ah!

But not for you alone must I
open the threshold to the dark night:
the moon in her modesty
would cover herself for shame.
We two will not be alone;
modesty would not allow it.
It wants a third person to be present,
and that third is love.
Then sing your song
while I wait for you on the balcony.
I expect you at midnight,
silently, silently you will come,
we two will not be alone,
the third must be love.
Ah!

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2008 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist
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This text was added to the website: 2008-12-30
Line count: 26
Word count: 136

Vedi là, sulla collina,
  quella torre bruna bruna,
  sovra cui giammai ne inchina
  i suoi raggi amica luna,
  tra i cui ruderi deserti
  è perpetuo tenebror!

[Vedi!] Spesso allor che il mondo dorme,
  se ti affisi in quei veroni,
  errar vedi oscure forme
  di sibille, di stregoni
  ed ascolti un suon di festa
  che di tema agghiaccia il cor.

Fuggi, fuggi, o passeggero,
  dalla torre del mistero.
  Su quei merli stanno assisi
  la sventura ed il terrore.

 Quando l'alba in ciel si accende
  Sulla cima dirupata,
  Una striscia si distende
  Di meteora insanguinata;
  E fra quella, orrendi spetri
  Stan giojosi a carolar:

E poi tuona, a destra, il cielo,
  La meteora in fiamma è volta,
  E una donna in bianco velo,
  Con la chioma all'aure sciolta,
  Tra le fiamme si profonda
  Con un grido di dolor.

Spesso ardito cavaliere
  Desioso di ventura
  Per lo ripido sentiere
  S'avviava a notte oscura,
  E tra gli orridi rottami
  Già spronando il corridor.

Ma tal fremito improvviso
  Gli agghiacciò nell'opra il core,
  Che, di tema allor conquiso,
  Volse indietro il corridore,
  Invocando al suo ritorno
  Della Vergine il favor.

Look there, on the hill,
that very dark tower,
upon which never shine
the rays of the friendly moon,
among whose deserted ruins
there is perpetual darkness!

Often when the earth sleeps,
if you look fixedly at those balconies
you see obscure forms wandering,
soothsayers, ugly witches,
and you hear a festive sound
that freezes your heart with fear.

Flee, flee, o passenger,
from the tower of mystery.
Those battlements are seats
of misfortune and terror.

When dawn enflames the sky
over the rocky summit,
a streak stretches overhead
of a meteor covered with blood,
and meanwhile, horrid specters
are joyously caroling.

And then, to the right, the sky thunders,
the meteor has turned to flames,
and a lady veiled in white,
with her hair blowing in the breeze,
plunges into the flames
with a cry of pain.

Often an ardent cavalier,
desiring an adventure,
climbed the steep banks
in the dark of night,
and among the horrible wrecks
who are encouraging the runner.

But what a sudden trembling
froze his heart while he was struggling,
because, already conquered by fear,
the runner turned around
invoking upon his return
the favor of the Virgin.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2016 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Leopoldo Tarantini (1811 - 1882)
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This text was added to the website: 2016-01-20
Line count: 40
Word count: 194

Quann'a lo bello mio voglio parlare,
ca spisso me ne vene lu golio,
a la fenesta me mett'a filare,
quann'a lo bello mio voglio parlare

Quann'isso passa po' rompo lo filo,
e co'una grazia me mett'a priare
bello, peccarita, proite milo,
isso lu piglia, ed io lo sto a guardare,
e accossi me ne vao'mpilo mpilo
ah jeme!

When I want to speak to the one I love,
because often I want to do that,
I sit down spinning at my window
when I want to speak to the one I love

When he passes by I break the thread a bit1
and with grace begins to ask
handsome one, please get it back to me
he bends down and I stand watching him
and so is lit in me a fire (which will burn)
forever!

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian - Neapolitan (dialect) to English copyright © 2007 by Camilla Bugge, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian - Neapolitan (dialect) from Volkslieder (Folksongs)
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¹ Translator's note: [so the spindle falls into the street]

This text was added to the website: 2007-10-27
Line count: 10
Word count: 79

L'aube naît, et ta porte est close !
Ô ma belle, pourquoi sommeiller ?
À l'heure où s'éveille la rose
Ne vas-tu pas te réveiller ?

   Ô ma charmante, 
   Écoute ici 
   L'amant qui chante
   Et pleure aussi !

Toute frappe à ta porte bénie.
L'aurore dit : Je suis le jour !
L'oiseau dit : Je suis l'harmonie !
Et mon cœur dit : Je suis l'amour!

   Ô ma charmante, 
   Écoute ici 
   L'amant qui chante
   Et pleure aussi !

Je t'adore, ange, je t'aime, femme.
Dieu qui pour toi m'a complété
A fait mon amour pour ton âme,
Et mon regard pour ta beauté !

   Ô ma charmante,
   Écoute ici 
   L'amant qui chante
   Et pleure aussi !

Dawn begins to come, and your door is closed!
My beauty, why are you sleeping?
At the hour when the rose is awakening,
are you not also going to awaken?

Oh my charming one,
listen here
to the lover who sings
and also weeps!

Everything knocks at your blessed door.
Dawn says, “I am the day!”
The bird says, “I am harmony!”
And my heart says, “I am love!”

Oh my charming one,
listen here
to the lover who sings
and also weeps!

I adore you, angel, [and] I love you, woman,
God, who made me for you,
made my love for your soul,
and my gaze for your beauty!

Oh my charming one,
listen here
to the lover who sings
and also weeps!

Text Authorship:

• Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2016 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in French (Français) by Victor Hugo (1802 - 1885), "Autre chanson", appears in Les Chants du Crépuscule, no. 23
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Translation of titles:
"Autre chanson" = "Another song"
"Le crépuscule" = "Dawn"

This text was added to the website: 2016-01-20
Line count: 24
Word count: 124

Tuo, finche il sol rischiara,
mio ben, il cor sarà.
Cesso d'amarti, o cara,
quando più sol non v'ha.
Teco sarà quest'anima
d'amor soave unita,
godrem di vita in vita,
pura felicità.

As long as the sun shines,
my dear, my heart will be yours.
I shall cease to love you, my dear,
when there is no more sun.
My soul will be united
with yours by sweet love;
we will enjoy from one life into another life
pure happiness.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2016 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Michele Palazzolo
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This text was added to the website: 2016-01-20
Line count: 8
Word count: 48

Vedi come in sul confine
del Vesevo il ciel s'indora
e le aurette mattutine[, sí,]
stan quell'onde a carezzar.
Vieni, o cara, in su quest'ora
par che rida cielo e mar [mare].
Or beltade e amor t'arride,
ma beltade e amor non dura.
Vieni, o Lisa, finchè ride[, sí,]
lieto a noi degl'anni il fior [fiore].
Fra il gioir della natura
deh, ragiona a me d'amor.

Look how in the area around
Vesuvius the sky turns golden
and the morning breezes
are ready to caress every wave.
Come, my dear, just at this time
it seems that the sky and the sea are smiling.
Now beauty and love smile upon you,
but beauty and love do not last.
Come, o Lisa, until
the flower of years smiles happily for us.
Surrounded by the joy of nature,
please, talk to me of love.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2016 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Leopoldo Tarantini (1811 - 1882)
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This text was added to the website: 2016-02-15
Line count: 12
Word count: 76

O profumo delicato,
che ti spandi in ogni via,
d'onde vieni, chi t'invia,
solo posso indovinar.
V'ha chi pensa nel gustarti
che di vaghi e eletti fiori 
su cui posano gli amori 
vieni il mondo a consolar!
Soavissimo profumo,
io t'ho solo indovinato,
sei di Bice il caro fiato
che in dolcezza ugual non ha!

O delicate perfume
that diffuses in all directions,
where you come from, who produces you,
only I can guess.
One who savors you must think
that from lovely and desirable flowers
on which Cupids perch
you come to console the world!
Sweetest perfume,
only I have guessed what you are:
you are the dear breath of Bice,
which has no equal in sweetness.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2016 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Francesco Puoti
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This text was added to the website: 2016-02-15
Line count: 12
Word count: 63

Si, t'amo, a te nascondere
io mai non seppi il core,
t'amo, ed immenso etereo
per te m'accende amore;
la tua diletta immagine
mi sta presente ognor:

Deh, se d'amore ai palpiti tuo cor
s'aprì talor[a],
calma i miei dubbi, e tenera 
tu mi ripeti ancor,
qui, dove eterno è il gemito,
voce del cielo è amor.

Yes, I love you, I could never
hide my heart from you.
I love you, and the immense universe
lights on fire with love for you.
Your delightful image
is always present with me.

Please, if your heart is ever
open to the trembling of love,
calm my doubts and tenderly
repeat to me again
here, where my weeping is eternal,
the voice of heaven and of love.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2016 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Leopoldo Tarantini (1811 - 1882)
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This text was added to the website: 2016-02-15
Line count: 12
Word count: 68

Uno sguardo di nera pupilla
nel mio core la strada s'aprì,
come raggio di sole che brilla
e traversa la nebbia del dì.

Una voce, un angelico accento,
lieve lieve sull'alma posò,
come raggio dell'astro d'argento
l'onda azzurra che dorme baciò.

Ah! se un lampo è la vita che passa,
e la gioia non torna mai più,
sia memoria a quest'anima lassa
una voce ed un guardo che fu.

A glance from a dark eye
opened its way into my heart
like a ray of sun that shines
through the fog of the day.

A voice, an angelic accent,
very gently rested on my soul,
as if a ray of a silver star
kissed the blue, sleeping wave.

Ah, if life passes by like lightning
and joy never returns,
may this be a memory to this weary soul:
a voice and a glance that once were.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2016 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Michele Palazzolo
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This text was added to the website: 2016-02-15
Line count: 12
Word count: 77

Mesci, mesci e sperda il vento
ogni cura, ogni lamento,
solo il canto del piacere
risuonar fra noi s'udrà;
nell'ebbrezza del bicchiere
sta la vera ilarità.

Lunga è l'ora degli affanni,
ha il piacer fugaci i vanni,
il momento del godere
brilla e rapido sen va [se ne va].

Pour, pour! and may the wind carry away
every concern, every lament;
only a song of pleasure
shall be heard around us;
in the exhilaration of the beaker
is true happiness.

Long are the hours of worry,
pleasure has a fleeting time,
a moment of enjoyment
gleams and rapidly goes away.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2016 by John Glenn Paton, (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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Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Leopoldo Tarantini (1811 - 1882)
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This text was added to the website: 2016-02-15
Line count: 10
Word count: 51