Res no és mesquí
Language: Catalan (Català)
Res no és mesquí
ni cap hora és isarda,
ni és fosca la ventura de la nit.
I la rosada és clara
que el sol surt i s'ullprèn
i té delit del bany
que s'emmiralla el llit de tota cosa feta.
Res no és mesquí,
i tot ric com el vi i la galta colrada.
I l'onada del mar sempre riu,
Primavera d'hivern -- Primavera d'istiu.
I tot és Primavera:
i tota fulla verda eternament.
Res no és mesquí,
perquè els dies no passen;
i no arriba la mort ni si l'heu demanada.
I si l'heu demanada us dissimula un clot
perquè per tornar a néixer necessiteu morir.
I no som mai un plorsinó un somriure fi
que es dispersa com grills de taronja.
Res no és mesquí,
perquè la cancó canta en cada bri de cosa.
-- Avui, demà i ahir
s'esfullarà una rosa:
i a la verge més jove li vindrà llet
Text 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 or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Salvador Pila) , "Nothing is miserly", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Steven Cox
This text was added to the website: 2009-09-04
Line count: 25
Word count: 152
Nothing is miserly
Language: English after the Catalan (Català)
Nothing is miserly
and neither hour is harsh,
nor the fate of night is somber.
And clear is the dew
so that the sun rises and, fascinated,
yearns for the bathing:
that mirrors the bed of all things done.
Nothing is miserly,
and all is rich like the wine and the suntanned cheek.
And the sea wave always laughs,
Spring of winter -- Spring of summer.
And all is Spring:
and every leaf green forever.
Nothing is miserly,
because days don't go by;
and death does not come, even if you called for it.
And if you did call for it, a hollow hides you
because to be born again, you need first to die.
And we are never a crying but a gentle smile
that disperses like orange segments.
Nothing is miserly,
because there's a song in each wisp of a thing.
- Today, tomorrow and yesterday
a rose will shed its petals:
and to the youngest virgin, milk will come to her breast.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Catalan (Català) to English copyright © 2010 by Salvador Pila, (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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2010-02-13
Line count: 25
Word count: 163
