Enskur ljóðatexti - Litríkt söngferðalag

Als Luise die Briefe ihres ungetreuen Lieb- habers verbrannte

 

Gabriele von Baumberg

 

Erzeugt von heißer Phantasie,

In einer schwärmerischen Stunde

Zur Welt gebrachte! – geht zu Grunde! Ihr Kinder der Melancholie!

Ihr danket Flammen euer Sein:

Ich geb’ euch nun den Flammen wieder, Und all’ die schwärmerischen Lieder; Denn ach! er sang nicht mir allein.

Ihr brennet nun, und bald, ihr Lieben, Ist keine Spur von euch mehr hier:

Doch ach! der Mann, der euch geschrieben, Brennt lange noch vielleicht in mir.

 

 

 

 

Arianna a Naxos

 

Anon.

 

Teseo mio ben, dove sei tu?

Vicino d’averti mi parea ma un lusinghiero sog- no fallace m’ingannò.

Già sorge in ciel la rosea Aurora e l’erbe e i fior colora Febo uscendo dal mar col crine aurato.

 

Sposo adorato, dove guidasti il piè?

Forse le fere ad inseguir ti chiama il tuo nobile ardor.

Ah vieni, O caro ed offrirò più grata preda a tuoi lacci.

Il cor d’Arianna amante, che t’adora costante, stringi con nodo più tenace e più bella la face splenda del nostro amor.

Soffrir non posso d’esser da te diviso un sol momento.

Ah di vederti, o caro, già mi stringe il desio. Ti sospira il mio cuor. Vieni, idol mio.

 

Dove sei, mio bel tesoro? Chi t’invola a questo cor?

Se non vieni, io già mi moro, Né resisto al mio dolor.

Se pietade avete, O Dei,

When Louisa burnt her unfaithful lover's let- ters

 

English Translation © Richard Stokes

 

Begotten by ardent fantasy, Born in

An emotional moment! Perish, Ye children of melancholy!

You owe your existence to flames, To flames I now return you

And all those passionate songs;

For ah! he did not sing for me alone.

Now you are burning, and soon, my dears, Not a trace of you will remain:

But ah! the man who wrote you May smoulder long yet in my heart.

 

Translations by Richard Stokes, author of The Book of Lieder (Faber, 2005)

 

 

Arianna in Naxos

 

English Translation © Misha Donat

 

Theseus my beloved, where are you?

I seem to have you near me, but a flattering treacher- ous dream deceives me.

Already rose coloured dawn is rising in the sky and Phoebus colours the grass and flowers rising from the sea with his golden hair.

Adored husband, where have your footsteps led you? Perhaps your noble ardour calls you to pursue wild beasts.

Ah come, my dearest, and I shall offer a more pleas- ing prey to your snares.

Arianna’s loving heart, which adores you faithfully, clasps the splendid

light of our love with a firmer knot.

I cannot bear to be apart from you for a single mo- ment.

Ah beloved, I am consumed with longing to see you. My heart sighs for you. Come, my idol.

 

Where are you, my treasure? Who stole you from this heart?

If you do not come, already I die, nor resist my grief.

If you have pity, O Gods,

Ma, a chi parlo?

Gli accenti eco ripete sol.

Teseo non m’ode, Teseo non mi risponde, e por- tano le voci e l’aure e l’onde.

Poco da me lontano esser egli dovria.

Salgasi quello che più d’ogni altro s’alza alpestro scoglio: ivi lo scoprirò.

Che miro? O stelle! Misera me! Quest’è l’argivo legno, Greci son quelli. Teseo!

Ei sulla prora! Ah, m’inganassi almen … No no, non m’inganno.

Ei fugge, ei qui mi lascia in abbandono. Più speranza non v’è, tradita io sono.

Teseo, Teseo, m’ascolta Teseo!

Ma oimè! Vaneggio. I flutti e il vento lo involano per sempre agli occhi miei. Ah, siete ingiusti,

o Dei se l’empio non punite! Ingrato! Perchè ti trassi dalla morte? Dunque tu dovevi tradirmi?

E le promesse, e i giuramenti tuoi? Spergiuro! Infido! Hai cor di lasciarmi! A chi mi volgo?

Da chi pietà sperar? Già più non reggo:

il piè vacilla, e in così amaro istante sento mancarmi in sen l’alma tremante.

 

Ah! che morir vorrei In si fatal momento,

Ma al mio crudel tormento Mi serba ingiusto il ciel.

Misera abbandonata Non ho chi mi consola. Chi tanto amai s’invola, Barbaro ed infidel.

But to whom am I speaking? Only echo repeats my words.

Theseus does not hear me, Theseus does not answer me, and my voice is carried by the wind and the waves. He must not be far from me.

Let me climb the highest of these steep rocks: I shall discover him thus.

What do I see? O heavens! Misery me! That is the wooden argosy, those men are Greeks. Theseus!

He is on the prow! O may I at least be mistaken … no, no, I am not mistaken.

He flees, he leaves me abandoned here.

There is no longer any hope for me, I am betrayed. Theseus, listen to me Theseus!

But alas! I am raving.The waves and wind are stealing him from my eyes for ever. Ah, you are unjust,

o Gods if you do not punish the infidel! Ungrateful man! Why did I snatch you away from death? So you had to betray me?

And your promises and your oaths?

Perjurer! Infidel! Have you the heart to leave me? To whom can I turn?

From whom can I hope for pity? I can already bear no more:

my step falters, and in so bitter a moment I feel my trembling soul weaken.

 

Ah, how I should like to die in so fatal a moment,

but the heavens unjustly keep me in my cruel torment.

Wretched and abandoned

I have no one to console me.

He whom I loved so much has fled, barbarous and unfaithful.

 

La flûte enchantée

 

Tristan Klingsor

 

L'ombre est douce et mon maître dort Coiffé d'un bonnet conique de soie

Et son long nez jaune en sa barbe blanche.

 

Mais moi, je suis éveillée encore Et j'écoute au dehors

Une chanson de flûte où s'épanche Tour à tour la tristesse ou la joie.

 

Un air tour à tour langoureux ou frivole Que mon amoureux chéri joue,

Et quand je m'approche de la croisée Il me semble que chaque note s'envole De la flûte vers ma joue

Comme un mystérieux baiser.

The enchanted flute

 

English Translation © Richard Stokes

 

The shade is soft and my master sleeps, A cone-shaped silken cap on his head,

And his long yellow nose in his white beard.

 

But I am still awake, Listening to the song

Of a flute outside that pours forth Sadness and joy in turn,

 

A tune now languorous now lively, Which my dear lover plays.

And when I draw near the casement, Each note seems to fly

From the flute to my cheek Like a mysterious kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chanson de la mariée

 

Michel Dimitri Calvocoressi

 

Réveille-toi, réveille-toi, perdrix mignonne, Ouvre au matin tes ailes.

Trois grains de beauté, mon cœur en est brûlé!

 

Vois le ruban d’or que je t’apporte, Pour le nouer autour de tes cheveux.

Si tu veux, ma belle, viens nous marier! Dans nos deux familles, tous sont alliés!

The bride's awakening

 

English Translation © Richard Stokes

 

Wake up, wake up, pretty partridge, Spread your wings to the morning,

Three beauty spots - and my heart's ablaze.

 

See the golden ribbon I bring you To tie around your tresses.

If you wish, my beauty, let us marry! In our two families all are related.

 

Translation © Richard Stokes, author of A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)

Là-bas, vers l'église

 

Michel Dimitri Calvocoressi

 

Là-bas, vers l’église, Vers l’église Ayio Sidéro, L’église, ô Vierge sainte,

L’église Ayio Costanndino, Se sont réunis,

Rassemblés en nombre infini, Du monde, ô Vierge sainte,

Du monde tous les plus braves!

Down there by the church

 

English Translation © Richard Stokes

 

Down there by the church,

By the church of Saint Sideros, The church, O Holy Virgin,

The church of Saint Constantine, Are gathered together,

buried in infinite numbers,

The bravest people, O Holy Virgin, The bravest people in the world!

 

Translation © Richard Stokes, author of A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)

 

 

Ah! mio cor!

 

Ah! mio cor, schernito sei! Stelle! Dei!

Nume d'amore! Traditore!

T'amo tanto;

puoi lasciarmi sola in pianto, oh dei! perché?

 

Ah! my heart!

 

Ah! my heart, mocked you're! Stars! Gods!

Nume of love! Traitor!

I love you so much;

you can leave me alone in tears, oh gods! why?

 

 

Clair de lune

 

Paul Verlaine

 

Votre âme est un paysage choisi

Que vont charmant masques et bergamasques Jouant du luth et dansant et quasi

Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques.

 

Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur L’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune, Ils n’ont pas l’air de croire à leur bonheur Et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,

 

Au calme clair de lune triste et beau, Qui fait rêver les oiseaux dans les arbres Et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau,

Les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les mar- bres.

Moonlight

 

English Translation © Richard Stokes

 

Your soul is a chosen landscape Bewitched by masquers and bergamaskers, Playing the lute and dancing and almost Sad beneath their fanciful disguises.

 

Singing as they go in a minor key

Of conquering love and life’s favours,

They do not seem to believe in their fortune And their song mingles with the light of the moon,

The calm light of the moon, sad and fair, That sets the birds dreaming in the trees And the fountains sobbing in their rapture, Tall and svelte amid marble statues.

 

Translations by Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)

Chanson d'amour

 

Armand Silvestre

 

J'aime tes yeux, j'aime ton front, Ô ma rebelle, ô ma farouche, J'aime tex yeux, j'aime ta bouche Où mes baisers s'épuiseront.

 

J'aime ta voix, j'aime l'étrange Grâce de tout ce que tu dis,

Ô ma rebelle, ô mon cher ange, Mon enfer et mon paradis!

 

J'aime tout ce qui te fait belle, De tes pieds jusqu'à tes cheveux,

Ô toi vers qui montent mes vœux, Ô ma farouche, ô ma rebelle!

Love song

 

English Translation © Richard Stokes

I love your eyes, I love your brow, O my rebel, O my wild one,

I love your eyes, I love your mouth Where my kisses shall dissolve.

 

I love your voice, I love the strange Charm of all you say,

O my rebel, O my dear angel, My inferno and my paradise.

 

I love all that makes you beautiful From your feet to your hair,

O you the object of all my vows, O my wild one, O my rebel.

 

Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Compan- ion (Oxford, 2000)

 

När du sluter mina ögon

 

Pär Lagerkvist

 

När du sluter mina ögon med din goda hand

blir det bara ljust omkring mig som i soligt land.

 

Du i skymning vill mig sänka men allt blir till ljus!

Du kan intent annat skänka mig än ljus, blott ljus.

When you close my eyes *

* Þar sem ég fann engar þýðingar, þýddi ég.

 

When you close my eyes with your lovely hand only light envelops me as if in a sunny land.

 

You want to bring me into twiligt but all turns to light!

You cannot give me anything but light, simply light.

 

 

 

Saliga väntan på dig

 

Pär Lagerkvist

 

Saliga väntan på dig som skall komma, när i din själ den kärlek kan blomma som med sin eld förtärer mig.

Saliga väntan på dig, på dig. Himmelen vidgas, på jorden är stilla!

 

Djupt i din själ är det stilla, stilla,. Bara den eld som förtärer mig stiger ur djupen att söka dig.

Och du skall komma,

de heta bränder bliva till blommor

i dina händer, till en ovansklig vår hos mig. Då du skall viska: Jag älskar dig.

Blessed expectation *

* Þar sem ég fann engar þýðingar, þýddi ég.

 

Blessed expectation for you who shall come, when in your soul the love can blossom

that with its fire consumes me. Blessed expectation for you, for you. The heaven widens, on earth all is still.

Deep in your soul is stillness, stillness.

Only the fire that consumes me rises from the depths to seek you. And you shall come,

the burning fires turn into flowers

in your hands, to an eternal spring in me. And you shall whisper: I love you.

A Chloris

 

Théophile de Viau

 

S'il est vrai, Chloris, que tu m'aimes, Mais j'entends, que tu m'aimes bien, Je ne crois point que les rois mêmes Aient un bonheur pareil au mien.

 

Que la mort serait importune De venir changer ma fortune A la félicité des cieux!

Tout ce qu'on dit de l'ambroisie Ne touche point ma fantaisie Au prix des grâces de tes yeux.

To Chloris

 

English Translation © Richard Stokes

 

If it be true, Chloris, that you love me, (And I'm told you love me dearly),

I do not believe that even kings Can match the happiness I know.

 

Even death would be powerless To alter my fortune

With the promise of heavenly bliss! All that they say of ambrosia

Does not stir my imagination Like the favour of your eyes!

 

Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Com- panion (Oxford, 2000)

 

Ur djupet av min själ

 

Pär Lagerkvist

 

Ur djupet av min själ där det är vår hos mig, där blomsterängar stå, en blomst jag giver dig, en lilja het som blod

men ren och vit som snö.

Den leva kan hos dig och den hos dig kan dö.

 

När bladen bredas ut och deras doft dig når, då vet du att min själ som ljusa ängder står. Den vissnar i din hand på ljuv och älskad bår.

From the depth of my soul *

 

* Þar sem ég fann engar þýðingar, þýddi ég.

 

From the depth of my soul where spring in me resides

where there are flower meadows, I give you a flower,

a lily hot as blood

but pure and white as snow.

It can live with you

and with you it can die.

When the petals unfold

and the fragrance reach you, then you know that my soul is like bright meadows.

It withers in your hand

on a sweet and beloved stretcher.

 

 

Som en våg

 

Pär Lagerkvist

 

Som en våg, sköljd upp mot stranden, vilar du hos mig.

När jag smeker dig med handen skälver havet in i dig.

Djupa hav som födde dig.

Kom intill mig,

nära till mig, djup som blivit du.

Detta som inom dig skälver är ditt hjärta ju,

Like a wave *

* Þar sem ég fann engar þýðingar, þýddi ég.

 

Like a wave, washed upon shore, are you resting by me.

When I caress you with my hand the ocean in you tremble.

Deep ocean that birthed you.

Come to me,

close to me, depth that has become you.

This which trembles within you is you heart,

Le manoir de Rosemonde

 

Robert de Bonnières

 

De sa dent soudaine et vorace, Comme un chien l'Amour m'a mordu; En suivant mon sang répandu,

Va, tu pourras suivre ma trace. Prends un cheval de bonne race, Pars et suis mon chemin ardu, Fondrière ou sentier perdu,

Si la course ne te harasse.

 

En passant par où j'ai passé, Tu verras que, seul et blessé, J'ai parcouru ce triste monde, Et qu'ainsi je m'en fus mourir

Bien loin, bien loin, sans découvrir Le bleu manoir de Rosemonde.

The manor of Rosamonde

 

English Translation © Richard Stokes

 

With sudden and ravenous tooth, Love like a dog has bitten me.

By following the blood I've shed - Come, you'll be able to follow my trail. Take a horse of fine breeding,

Set out, and follow my arduous course By quagmire or by hidden path,

If the chase does not weary you.

 

Passing by where I have passed,

You will see that, solitary and wounded, I have traversed this sorry world,

And that thus I went off to die

Far, far away, without ever finding The blue manor of Rosamonde.

 

 

 

 

Phidylé

 

Charles-Marie-René Leconte de Lisle

 

L'herbe est molle au sommeil sous les frais peupliers,

Aux pentes des sources moussues, Qui, dans les prés en fleur germant par mille issues,

Se perdent sous les noirs halliers. Repose, ô Phidylé!

Midi sur les feuillages rayonne, et t'invite au sommeil.

 

Par le trèfle et le thym, seules, en plein soleil,

Chantent les abeilles volages.

Un chaud parfum circule au détour des sentiers, La rouge fleur des blés s'incline,

Et les oiseaux, rasant de l'aile la colline, Cherchent l'ombre des églantiers.

 

Mais, quand l'Astre, incliné sur sa courbe éclatante, Verra ses ardeurs s'apaiser,

Que ton plus beau sourire et ton meilleur baiser Me récompensent de l'attente!

Phidylé

 

English Translation © Richard Stokes

 

The grass is soft for sleep beneath the cool poplars

On the banks of the mossy springs That flow in flowering meadows from a thousand sources,

And vanish beneath dark thickets. Rest, O Phidylé!

Noon on the leaves is gleaming, inviting you to sleep.

 

By the clover and thyme, alone, in the bright sunlight,

The fickle bees are humming.

A warm fragrance floats about the winding paths, The red flowers of the cornfield droop;

And the birds, skimming the hillside with their wings, Seek the shade of the eglantine.

 

But when the sun, low on its dazzling curve, Sees its brilliance wane,

Let your loveliest smile and finest kiss Reward me for my waiting!