by
Alberto Donaudy (1880 - 1941)
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):
- by Stefano Donaudy (1879 - 1925), "O del mio amato ben", published <<1918, from 36 Arie di Stile Antico, no. 18. [
text verified 1 time
]
- by Marques L. A. Garrett (b. 1984), "O del mio amato ben", 2013 [voice and piano], from A Love Cycle: Songs of Happiness, Heartbreak, Hope, and Healing, no. 2. [
text verified 1 time
]
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 page: Donna (Bareket) Breitzer
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 98
Ay de mi bien amado
Language: Spanish (Español)  after the Italian (Italiano)
¡Ay! de mi bien amado he perdido el encanto!
Lejos está de mis ojos
quien me era gloria y orgullo.
Ahora por las silenciosas habitaciones
siempre la busco y llamo
con el corazón lleno de esperanzas...
Pero busco en vano, llamo en vano.
Y el llorar me es tan querido,
que sólo de llanto nutro el corazón.
Me parece, sin él, triste cada lugar.
La noche me parece el día;
el hielo me parece fuego.
Si a veces espero
darme cura,
sólo me atormenta un pensamiento:
pero, sin él, ¿qué haré?
Me parece así la vida
cosa vana sin mi amado.
Authorship:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2010-06-01
Line count: 18
Word count: 101