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Attention! Some of this material is not in the public domain.

It is illegal to copy and distribute our copyright-protected material without permission. It is also illegal to reprint copyright texts or translations without the name of the author or translator.

To inquire about permissions and rates, contact Emily Ezust at licenses@email.lieder.example.net

If you wish to reprint translations, please make sure you include the names of the translators in your email. They are below each translation.

Note: You must use the copyright symbol © when you reprint copyright-protected material.

by Cristina de la Cruz de Arteaga
Translation © by Jennifer Capaldo

Corazón de mujer
Language: Spanish (Español) 
Our translations:  ENG
Corazón de mujer,
Que no sabe querer,
Que no sabe entregar
Toda el alma y el ser
A la angustía de amar,
No se puede llamar
Corazón de mujer.

Y si un día el amor
No es el vivo fulgor
Que enardece el vivir
Y hace suave el dolor
De su mismo sufrir;
Como flor sin olor
Bien merece morir.

Aunque yo lo soné
Tan fuerte y tan dichoso,
Aunque tú lo tejiste,
Nuestro amor nació herido
Por el gérmen morboso
De mi espíritu inquieto,
De tu espíritu triste

Fué pàlida su aurora,
No tuvo mediodía,
Cuando apenas sellaba
La ilusión de una hora,
Nuestro amor se moría.

No quisimos creer
Que era una calentura
Que se esfumó por siempre
Que partió nuestros lazos.
¡Y fué nuestra tortura
El estrechar su sombra
Disuelta en nuestros brazos!

Hoy te tienta el recuerdo
De esa esperanza muerta
Estaba en tu memoria
Como una flor marchita.
¡No llames a mi puerta!
Cuando el amor ha muerto,
Nadie lo resucita.

¡Pobre amor! Es ya tarde
¡Déjalo en su reposo!
En vano lo adoraba,
En balde lo quisiste.
¡Era el fruto forzoso
De mí espíritu inquieto,
De tu espíritu triste!

A veces junto las manos
Y a veces cierro los ojos
Cuando me invaden tiranos los antojos
De mis latidos humanos.
Ante su fuerza incentiva
Se dobla lànguidamente
En defensiva inconsciente
El alma, ¡flor sensitiva!

Cierro los ojos y espero,
Junto, las manos y adoro,
Sufro, lloro, rio, lloro,
¡No se vi vivo o si muero!
¡En tumultuosa amalgama
Mi vida, gozo y martirio!
Se derrama como un cirio
Disuelto en su misma llama.

Corazón de mujer,
Que no sabe querer,
Que no sabe entregar
Toda el alma y el ser
A la angustía de amar,
No se puede llamar
Corazón de mujer.

Text Authorship:

  • by Cristina de la Cruz de Arteaga  [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]

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

  • by Joaquín Turina (1882 - 1949), "Corazón de mujer", op. 39 (1926), published 1927 [soprano and piano or orchestra], Madrid: UME [ sung text checked 1 time]

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

  • ENG English (Jennifer Capaldo) , "A woman's heart", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 70
Word count: 298

A woman's heart
Language: English  after the Spanish (Español) 
A woman's heart 
that cannot love,
that cannot surrender 
Its whole soul and being
to the anguish of love,
cannot be called 
a woman's heart.
 
And if one day love 
loses the intense glow
that kindles life 
and soothes the pain
of its own suffering --
like a flower without fragrance 
it well deserves to die.
 
Though I dreamt 
our love was strong and happy,
and though you wove its strands, 
our love was born infected 
by the diseased germ
of my restless nature 
and your sad soul.
 
Its dawn was pale 
and failed to reach its noon;
hardly had one hour
of illusion gone by,
than our love was dying.
 
We refused to believe 
That it was a fever
which vanished forever 
and severed our bonds.
And it was a torment 
To clasp its dissolving shadow 
in our arms!
 
Now you are tempted by the memory 
of those withered hopes,
I linger in your mind 
like a faded flower.
Do not call at my door!
When love has died, 
no one can revive it.
 
Poor Love! It is now too late.
Leave it in peace!
Adored in vain, 
in vain desired,
it was the inevitable fruit 
of my restless nature
and your sad soul!
 
At times I clasp my hands, 
at times I close my eyes,
when I am overwhelmed
by the throb of human desire.
Before its on-driving force,
the soul -- sensitive flower! -- 
languidly submits 
in unconscious defense.
 
I close my eyes and wait, 
I clasp my hands and pray;
I suffer, cry, laugh, cry, 
not knowing if I live or die!
A tumultuous fusion: my life, 
With its joy and torment,
overflowing like a candle, 
dissolving in its own flame.
 
A woman's heart 
that cannot love,
that cannot surrender 
Its whole soul and being
to the anguish of love,
cannot be called 
a woman's heart.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from Spanish (Español) to English copyright © 2012 by Jennifer Capaldo, (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:

  • a text in Spanish (Español) by Cristina de la Cruz de Arteaga
    • Go to the text page.

 

This text was added to the website: 2012-08-18
Line count: 70
Word count: 307

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This website began in 1995 as a personal project by Emily Ezust, who has been working on it full-time without a salary since 2008. Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation. Your help is greatly appreciated!
–Emily Ezust, Founder

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