by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
Translation by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 - 1882)

Á un arroyuelo
Language: Spanish (Español) 
¡ Risa del monte, de las aves lira ! 
¡ Pompa del prado, espejo de la aurora! 
¡ Alma de Abril, espíritu de Flora,
Por quien la rosa y el jazmin espira! 

Aunque tu curso en cuantos pasos gira
Tanta jurisdiccion argenta y dora,
Tu clara proceder mas me enamora 
Que lo que en tí cada pastor admira.

¡ Cuan sin engaño tus entrañas puras 
Dejan por transparente vidriera 
Las guijuelas al número patentes!

¡ Cuan sin malicia cándida murmuras! 
O sencillez de aquella edad primera,
Huyes del hombre y vives en las fuentes.

Confirmed with Henry W. Longfellow, Coplas de Don Jorge Manrique, translated from the Spanish; with an introductory essay on the Moral and Devotional Poetry of Spain, Boston: Allen and Ticknor, 1833, p. 88. The text's author is given as anónimo, or anonymous.


Authorship

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

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Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) , "To a brook", first published 1833


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2014-03-07
Line count: 14
Word count: 94

The brook
Language: English  after the Spanish (Español) 
Laugh of the mountain! -- lyre of bird and tree!
Pomp of the meadow! mirror of the morn!
The soul of April, unto whom are born
The rose and jessamine, leaps wild in thee!

Although, where'er thy devious current strays,
The lap of earth with gold and silver teems,
To me thy clear proceeding brighter seems
Than golden sands, that charm each shepherd's gaze.

How without guile thy bosom, all transparent
As the pure crystal, lets the curious eye
Thy secrets scan, thy smooth, round pebbles count!

How, without malice murmuring, glides thy current!
O sweet simplicity of days gone by!
Thou shun'st the haunts of man, to dwell in limpid fount!

Note: the earlier version of this poem has significant changes in the first stanza and smaller changes in the third.


Authorship

Based on

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

Another version of this text exists in the database.


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2008-06-03
Line count: 14
Word count: 111