by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
Translation © by Christopher Swanson

Torna, vezzosa Fillide
Language: Italian (Italiano) 
Available translation(s): ENG
Torna, vezzosa Fillide,
al caro tuo pastore;
lungi da tue pupille
pace non trova il cor.

Al caro tuo soggiorno
io sempre volgo il piè
e grido notte e giorno:
Fillide mia dov'è?

Domando a quella sponda:
Fillide mia che fa?
E par che mi risponda:
Piange lontan da te.

Domando a quello rio:
Fillide mia dov'è?
Con rauco mormorio
dice: Piangendo sta.

Il caro tuo sembiante,
fonte d'ogni piacere,
il miro ad ogni istante
impresso nel pensier.

Ma rimirando allora
ch'egli non è con me,
grido piangendo ognora:
Fillide mia dov'e?

Son fatte le mie pene
un tempestoso mare;
non trovo, amato bene,
chi le potrà calmar.

Che fa la morte, oh Dio,
che non mi chiama a sé?
Gridar più non poss'io:
Fillide mia dov'è?

Authorship

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

Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Christopher Swanson) , title 1: "Return, charming Fillide", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 32
Word count: 127

Return, charming Fillide
Language: English  after the Italian (Italiano) 
Return, charming Fillide,
to your dear shepherd;
Far from your eyes
My heart finds no peace.

To your dear abode
I always turn my steps
And I cry night and day:
Where is my Fillide?

I ask the shore:
What is my Fillide doing?
And it seems to answer:
Weeping far from you!

I ask to river:
Where is my Fillide?
With a hoarse murmur
It says: she is weeping.

Your dear face,
Fountain of every desire,
I see it at every moment
Impressed in my mind.

But seeing more clearly
that it is not with me,
I cry, weeping always:
Where is my Fillide?

I have made in my pain
A tempestuous sea;
I do not find one, beloved,
Who can relieve it.

What is Death doing, God,
That it does not call me?
I cannot cry out any more:
Where is my Fillide?

Authorship

  • Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2004 by Christopher Swanson, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.

    Christopher Swanson.  Contact: swansoncl (AT) longwood (DOT) edu

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Based on

 

This text was added to the website: 2004-11-16
Line count: 32
Word count: 145