Song Texts
Granados Tonadillas
The Tralala and the
Picking
It is in vain, my boy,
that you go on talking,
For there are things
to which I ever answer
in song.
Tra la la...
No matter how many times
you ask:
Tra la la...
You cause me no grief
And I will not cease
to sing.
tra la la...
translation by
Pamela Narbona Jerez
The Forgotten Man
When you think
of days gone by,
Think of me, of me.
When your trellis
is bedecked with flowers,
Think of me, think of me.
When, on tranquil
nights,
The nightingale sings,
Think of the forgotten man
Who died of love.
Poor forgotten man!
How deeply he suffers,
suffers, suffers!
Because an ungrateful one
left him,
He does not want to live.
translation by
Michael P Rosewall
The Timid Man
Coming to my window
grate to look at me
In the evening is a gent
Who, when he has seen
enough, sighs
And disappears
down the road.
Ah, what a fleeting fellow!
If this is how life will go,
it’ll kill me!
It happens again
and he runs away
And so, without
enthusiasm,
I say softly to him,
“Adios, Mr. Ghost!”
Ah, what a fleeting fellow!
If this is how life will go,
it’ll kill me!
translation by
Pamela Narbona Jerez
The Gaze
of the Beloved
Because my eyes
hold such an intense gaze
in order to avoid
disdain and fighting
I tend to look away
What fire do they
carry inside,
that with only
a little passion,
when I look at my lover,
they cause me to blush?
That's why this fiery man
to whom I gave my soul
when standing
in front of me
tosses a hat my way
and says to me:
"my love, do not look
at me anymore
for your eyes are lightning
and burning in desire
they give me death."
translation by
Pamela Narbona Jerez
The Discreet Lover
Some say that
my beloved is homely.
It is possible
that he may be,
For love is desire
Which blinds and dizzies.
For long have I known
That loving is not seeing.
But if my beloved
is not a man
Whose beauty turns heads
and astonishes,
Then he is discreet
And the keeper of a secret
That I entrusted to him
Knowing that he is true.
What could this secret be
That my beloved is
safeguarding?
It would be indiscreet
For me to reveal it.
It is no small feat
to learn
The secrets between
a man and a woman.
He was born in Lavapiés.
Uh-huh!
He is handsome,
handsome is he!
translation by
Pamela Narbona Jerez
El tra la la y el
punteado
Es en balde, majo mío,
que sigas hablando
porque hay cosas que
contesto yo siempre
cantando:
Tra la la...
Por más que preguntes
tanto:
tra la la...
En mí no causas quebranto
ni yo he de salir de
mi canto:
tra la la...
translation by
Pamela Narbona Jerez
El majo olvidado
Cuando recuerdes
los días pasados,
piensa en mí, en mí.
Cuando de flores
se llene tu reja,
piensa en mí, piensa en mí.
Cuando en las
noches serenas,
cante el ruiseñor,
piensa en el majo olvidado
que muere de amor.
¡Pobre del majo olvidado!
¡Qué duro sufrir,
sufrir, sufrir!
Pues que la ingrata
le dejó,
no quiere vivir.
translation by
Michael P Rosewall
El majo timido
Llega a mi reja y
me mira
por la noche un majo
que, en cuanto me ve y
suspira,
se va calle
abajo.
¡Ay qué tío más tardío!
¡Si así se pasa la vida estoy
divertida!
Otra vez pasa
y se alejo
y no se
entusiasma
y bajito yo le digo
¡Adiós Don Fantasma!
¡Ay que tío más tardío!
Si así se pasa la vida
estoy divertida.
translation by
Pamela Narbona Jerez
El mirar
de la maja
¿Por qué es en mis ojos
tan hondo el mirar
que á fin de cortar
desdenes y enojos
los suelo entornar?
¿Qué fuego dentro
llevarán
que si acaso
con calor
los clavo en mi amor
sonrojo me dan?
Por eso el chispero
á quien mi alma dí
al verse
ante mí
me tira el sombrero
y díceme así:
"Mi Maja, no me
mires más
que tus ojos rayos son
y ardiendo en pasión
la muerte me dan."
translation by
Pamela Narbona Jerez
El majo discreto
Dicen que
mi majo es feo.
Es posible que
sí que lo sea,
que amor es deseo
que ciega y marea.
Ha tiempo que sé
que quien á mano ve.
Mas si no es
mi majo un hombre
que por lindo
descuelle y asombre,
en cambio es discreto
y guarda un secreto
que yo posé en él
sabiendo que es fiel.
¿Cuál es el secreto
que el majo
guardó?
Sería indiscreto
contarlo yo.
No poco trabajo
costara saber
secretos de un majo
con una mujer.
Nació en Lavapiés.
¡Eh, ¡eh!
¡Es un majo,
un majo es!
Fernando Periquet
1873—1940
Brahms Two Songs
Stilled Longing
Steeped in a golden
evening glow,
how solemnly the forests
stand!
In gentle voices the little
birds breathe
into the soft fluttering of
evening breezes.
What does the wind whis-
per, and the little birds?
They whisper the world into
slumber.
You, my desires,
that stir
in my heart without
rest or peace!
You longings that
move my heart,
When will you rest,
when will you sleep?
By the whispering of the
wind, and of the birds?
You yearning desires,
when will you fall asleep?
Alas, when no longer into
the golden distance
does my spirit hurry on
dream-wings,
when no more on the
eternally distant stars
does my longing
gaze rest;
Then the wind and
the little birds
will whisper away my
longing, and my life.
translation by
Emily Ezust
Lullaby for the
Christ Child
You who hover
Around these palms
In night and wind,
You holy angels,
Silence the treetops,
My child is sleeping.
You palms of Bethlehem
In the roaring wind,
How can you today
Bluster so angrily!
O roar not so!
Be still, bow
Softly and gently;
Silence the treetops!
My child is sleeping.
The child of heaven
Endures the discomfort,
Oh, how tired he has
become
Of earthly sorrow.
Oh, now in sleep,
Gently softened,
His pain fades,
Silence the treetops!
My child is sleeping.
Fierce cold
Comes rushing,
How shall I cover
The little child's limbs?
O all you angels,
You winged ones
Wandering in the wind.
Silence the treetops!
My child is sleeping.
translation by
Lawrence Snyder and
Rebecca Plack
1562—1635
Gestillte Sehnsucht
In goldnen Abendschein
getauchet
Wie feierlich die Wälder
stehn!
In leise Stimmen der
Vöglein hauchet
Des Abendwindes leises
Wehn.
Was lispeln die Winde,
die Vögelein?
Sie lispeln die Welt in
Schlummer ein.
Ihr Wünsche, die ihr stets
euch reget
Im Herzen sonder
Rast und Ruh';
Du Sehnen, das die
Brust beweget,
Wann ruhest du,
wann schlummerst du?
Beim Lispeln der Winde,
der Vögelein,
Ihr sehnenden Wünsche,
wann schlaft ihr ein?
Ach, wenn nicht mehr in
goldne Fernen
Mein Geist auf
Traumgefieder eilt,
Nicht mehr an ewig fernen
Sternen
Mit sehnendem Blick mein
Auge weilt;
Dann lispeln die Winde,
die Vögelein
Mit meinem Sehnen mein
Leben ein.
Friedrich Rückert
1788-1866
Geistliches
Wiegenlied
Die ihr schwebet
Um diese Palmen
In Nacht und Wind,
Ihr heilgen Engel,
Stillet die Wipfel!
Es schlummert mein Kind.
Ihr Palmen von Bethlehem
Im Windesbrausen,
Wie mögt ihr heute
So zornig sausen!
O rauscht nicht also!
Schweiget, neiget
Euch leis und lind;
Stillet die Wipfel!
Es schlummert mein Kind.
Der Himmelsknabe
Duldet Beschwerde,
Ach, wie so müd
er ward
Vom Leid der Erde.
Ach nun im Schlaf ihm
Leise gesänftigt
Die Qual zerrinnt,
Stillet die Wipfel!
Es schlummert mein Kind.
Grimmige Kälte
Sauset hernieder,
Womit nur deck ich
Des Kindleins Glieder!
O all ihr Engel,
Die ihr geflügelt
Wandelt im Wind,
Stillet die Wipfel!
Es schlummert mein Kind.
Emanuel von Geibel
1815—1884, after
Lope Felix de Vega Carpio
1562—1635
Wagner Wesendonck Lieder
The Angel
In childhood's early
days,
I often heard them speak of
angels
Who would exchange
Heaven's sublime bliss
For the Earth's
sun
So that, when an anxious
heart in dread
Is full of longing, hidden
from the world;
So that, when it wishes
silently to bleed
And melt away in a
trickle of tears;
So that, when its prayer
ardently
Pleads only for release,
Then the angel
floats down
And gently lifts it to
Heaven.
Yes, an angel has come
down to me,
And on glittering
wings
It leads, far away from
every pain,
My soul now
heavenward!
Be Quiet!
Roaring and rushing
wheel of time,
You are the measurer of
Eternity;
Shining spheres in the wide
universe,
You who surround the
world globe,
Eternal creation,
halt!
Enough development,
let me be!
Cease, generative
powers,
The primal thoughts which
you are ever creating!
Slow your breathing,
still your urge
Silently, only for a
second long!
Swelling pulses,
fetter your beating,
End, o eternal
day of willing!
That in blessed, sweet
forgetfulness,
I may measure
all my bliss!
When one eye another
drinks in bliss,
And one soul into another
sinks,
One nature in another
finds itself again,
And when each hope's
fulfillment is finished,
When the lips are mute in
astounded silence,
And no wish more does
the heart invent,
Then man recognizes
the sign of Eternity,
And solves your riddle,
holy Nature!
In a Greenhouse
High-vaulted
crowns of leaves,
Canopies of emerald,
You children of
distant zones,
Tell me, why do you
lament?
Silently you bend
your branches,
Draw signs in the air,
And the mute witness to
your anguish —
A sweet fragrance
rises.
In desirous longing,
wide
You open your arms,
And embrace through
insane predilection
The desolate, empty,
horrible void.
I know well,
poor plants,
A fate that we share,
Though we bathe in
light and radiance,
Our homeland is
not here!
And how gladly the sun
departs
From the empty gleam
of the day,
He veils himself, he who
suffers truly,
In the darkness of
silence.
It becomes quiet,
a whispered stirring
Fills uneasily the
dark room:
Heavy drops I see
hovering
On the green edge of the
leaves.
Anguish
Sun, each evening you
weep
Your pretty eyes red,
When, bathing in the
mirror of the sea
You are seized by
early death.
Yet you rise in all your
splendor,
Glory of the gloomy world,
Newly awakening in the
morning
Like a proud,
victorious hero!
Ah, why should I then
lament,
Why, my heart, are you so
heavy,
If the sun itself must
despair,
If the sun must set?
And if Death gives rise only
to Life,
And pain gives way only to
bliss,
O how thankful I am,
that
Nature gives me such
anguish!
Dreams
Tell me, what kind of
wondrous dreams
Are embracing my
senses,
That have not, like
sea-foam,
Vanished into desolate
Nothingness?
Dreams, that with each
passing hour,
Each passing day, bloom
fairer,
And with their
heavenly tidings
Roam blissfully through my
heart!
Dreams which, like holy
rays of light
Sink into the soul,
There to paint an eternal
image:
Forgiving all, thinking of
only One.
Dreams which, when the
Spring sun
Kisses the blossoms from
the snow,
So that into unsuspected
bliss
They greet the new day,
So that they grow, so that
they bloom,
And dreaming, bestow their
fragrance,
These dreams gently glow
and fade on your breast,
And then sink into the
grave.
translation by
Emily Ezust
1828 - 1902
Der Engel
In der Kindheit frühen
Tagen
Hört ich oft von Engeln
sagen,
Die des Himmels hehre
Wonne
Tauschen mit der
Erdensonne,
Daß, wo bang ein Herz in
Sorgen
Schmachtet vor der Welt
verborgen,
Daß, wo still es will
verbluten,
Und vergehn in
Tränenfluten,
Daß, wo brünstig sein
Gebet
Einzig um Erlösung fleht,
Da der Engel
niederschwebt,
Und es sanft gen
Himmel hebt.
Ja, es stieg auch mir ein
Engel nieder,
Und auf leuchtendem
Gefieder
Führt er, ferne jedem
Schmerz,
Meinen Geist nun
himmelwärts!
Stehe still!
Sausendes, brausendes
Rad der Zeit,
Messer du der
Ewigkeit;
Leuchtende Sphären im
weiten All,
Die ihr umringt den
Weltenball;
Urewige Schöpfung,
halte doch ein,
Genug des Werdens,
laß mich sein!
Halte an dich, zeugende
Kraft,
Urgedanke, der ewig
schafft!
Hemmet den Atem,
stillet den Drang,
Schweiget nur eine
Sekunde lang!
Schwellende Pulse,
fesselt den Schlag;
Ende, des Wollens
ew'ger Tag!
Daß in selig süßem
Vergessen
Ich mög alle Wonnen
ermessen!
Wenn Aug' in Auge
wonnig trinken,
Seele ganz in Seele
versinken;
Wesen in Wesen sich
wiederfindet,
Und alles Hoffens Ende
sich kündet,
Die Lippe verstummt in
staunendem Schweigen,
Keinen Wunsch mehr will
das Innre zeugen:
Erkennt der Mensch
des Ew'gen Spur,
Und löst dein Rätsel,
heil'ge Natur!
Im Treibhaus
Hochgewölbte
Blätterkronen,
Baldachine von Smaragd,
Kinder ihr aus
fernen Zonen,
Saget mir, warum ihr
klagt?
Schweigend neiget ihr
die Zweige,
Malet Zeichen in die Luft,
Und der Leiden stummer
Zeuge
Steiget aufwärts, süßer
Duft.
Weit in sehnendem
Verlangen
Breitet ihr die Arme aus,
Und umschlinget
wahnbefangen
Öder Leere nicht'gen
Graus.
Wohl, ich weiß es,
arme Pflanze;
Ein Geschicke teilen wir,
Ob umstrahlt von
Licht und Glanze,
Unsre Heimat ist
nicht hier!
Und wie froh die Sonne
scheidet
Von des Tages leerem
Schein,
Hüllet der, der wahrhaft
leidet,
Sich in Schweigens
Dunkel ein.
Stille wird's,
ein säuselnd Weben
Füllet bang den
dunklen Raum:
Schwere Tropfen seh ich
schweben
An der Blätter grünem
Saum.
Schmerzen
Sonne, weinest jeden
Abend
Dir die schönen Augen rot,
Wenn im Meeresspiegel
badend
Dich erreicht der
frühe Tod;
Doch erstehst in alter
Pracht,
Glorie der düstren Welt,
Du am Morgen neu
erwacht,
Wie ein stolzer
Siegesheld!
Ach, wie sollte ich da
klagen,
Wie, mein Herz, so schwer
dich sehn,
Muß die Sonne selbst
verzagen,
Muß die Sonne untergehn?
Und gebieret Tod nur
Leben,
Geben Schmerzen Wonne
nur:
O wie dank ich, daß
gegeben
Solche Schmerzen mir
Natur!
Träume
Sag, welch wunderbare
Träume
Halten meinen Sinn
umfangen,
Daß sie nicht wie leere
Schäume
Sind in ödes Nichts
vergangen?
Träume, die in jeder
Stunde,
Jedem Tage schöner
blühn,
Und mit ihrer
Himmelskunde
Selig durchs Gemüte
ziehn!
Träume, die wie hehre
Strahlen
In die Seele sich versenken,
Dort ein ewig Bild zu
malen:
Allvergessen,
Eingedenken!
Träume, wie wenn
Frühlingssonne
Aus dem Schnee die Blüten
küßt,
Daß zu nie geahnter
Wonne
Sie der neue Tag begrüßt,
Daß sie wachsen, daß sie
blühen,
Träumend spenden ihren
Duft,
Sanft an deiner Brust
verglühen,
Und dann sinken in die
Gruft.
Mathilde Wesendonck,
née Luckemeyer
1828 - 1902
Bellini Three Ariettas
The fervent wish
When will that day come
When I may see again
That which the loving heart
so desires?
When will that day come
When I welcome you to my
bosom,
beautiful flame of love,
my own soul?
Sorrowful Image
Sorrowful Image
Sorrowful image of my
Phillis,
Why do you sit so desolate
beside me?
What more do you wish
for?
Streams of tears have I
poured on your ashes.
Do you fear that, forgetful
of sacred vows,
That I might burn by
another flame?
Shade of Phillis, rest
peacefully;
The old flame cannot be
extinguished.
translation by
Camilla Bugge
Lovely moon, you who
shed silver light
Lovely moon, you who
sheds silver light
On these shores and
flowers
And breathe the language
Of love to the elements,
You are now the sole
witness
Of my ardent longing,
And can recount my throbs
and sighs
To her who fills me with
love.
Tell her too that distance
Cannot assuage my grief,
That if I cherish a hope,
It is only for the future.
Tell her that, day and night,
I count the hours of sorrow,
That a flattering hope
Comforts me in my love.
translation by
Antonio Giuliano
Il fervido desiderio
Quando verrà quel dì
che riveder potrò
quel che l'amante cor tanto
desia?
Quando verrà quel dì
che in sen t'acco-
glierò,
bella fiamma d'amor,
anima mia?
Dolente immagine di
Fille mia
Dolente immagine di Fille
mia,
perché sì squallida mi siedi
accanto?
Che più
desideri?
Dirotto pianto io sul tuo
cenere versai finor.
Temi che immemore de'
sacri giuri
io possa accendermi ad
altra face?
Ombra di Fillide, riposa in
pace;
è inestinguibile l'antico
ardor.
translation by
Camilla Bugge
Vaga luna, che
inargenti
Vaga luna, che
inargenti
queste rive e questi
fiori
ed inspiri agli elementi
il linguaggio dell'amor;
testimonio or sei tu
sola
del mio fervido desir,
ed a lei che m'inn-
amora
conta i palpiti e i
sospir.
Dille pur che lontananza
il mio duol non può lenir,
che se nutro una speranza,
ella è sol nell'avvenir.
Dille pur che giorno e sera
conto l'ore del dolor,
che una speme lusinghiera
mi conforta nell'amor.
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