by Alberto Donaudy (1880 - 1941)
Translation © by Donna (Bareket) Breitzer

O del mio amato ben
Language: Italian (Italiano) 
Available translation(s): ENG SPA
O del mio amato ben perduto incanto!
Lungi è dagli occhi miei
chi m'era gloria e vanto!       
Or per le mute stanze
sempre lo [cerco e]1 chiamo                        
con pieno il cor di speranze?
Ma cerco invan, chiamo invan!
E il pianger m'è sì caro,
che di pianto sol nutro il cor.

Mi sembra, senza lui2, triste ogni loco.
Notte mi sembra il giorno;
mi sembra gelo il foco.
Se pur talvolta spero
di darmi ad altra cura,
sol mi tormenta un pensiero:
Ma, senza lui, che farò?
Mi par così la vita vana cosa
senza il mio ben.

View original text (without footnotes)
1 Garrett: "cerco, sempre lo"
2 Male singers sometimes change this to "lei" so that the subject of the song is female rather than male.

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 (Donna Bareket) , title 1: "Oh, lost enchantment of my dearly beloved", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • SPA Spanish (Español) (Juan Henríquez Concepción) , title 1: "Ay de mi bien amado", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Donna (Bareket) Breitzer

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 98

Oh, lost enchantment of my dearly beloved
Language: English  after the Italian (Italiano) 
 Oh, lost enchantment of my dearly beloved!
 Far from my eyes is he
 who was, to me, glory and pride!        
 Now through the empty rooms
 I always seek him and call him                  
 with a heart full of hopes?
 But I seek in vain, I call in vain!
 And the weeping is so dear to me,
 that with weeping alone I nourish my heart.
 
 It seems to me, without him, sad everywhere.
 The day seems like night to me;
 the fire seems cold to me.
 If, however, I sometimes hope
 to give myself to another cure,
 one thought alone torments me:
 But without him, what shall I do?
 To me, life seems a vain thing
 without my beloved.

Authorship

  • Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © by Donna (Bareket) Breitzer, (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

 

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 118