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