by Alfred Tennyson, Lord (1809 - 1892)
Translation Pablo Sabat
Language: English
The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long night shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory: Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Bugle, blow; 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: Bugle, blow 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, Bugle, blow answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Composition:
- Set to music by (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "Nocturne", op. 31 no. 2 (1943), published 1944, first performed 1943 [ tenor, horn, and strings or piano ], from Serenade for tenor, horn and strings, no. 2, London : Boosey & Hawkes
Text 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
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , copyright © 2025, (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"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 133
Language: Spanish (Español) after the English
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.
The translator has released this translation into the public domain.
Text 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
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This text was added to the website: 2013-05-26
Line count: 18
Word count: 137