Gretchen am Spinnrade Gretchen at the spinning-wheel

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe English Translation © Richard Stokes

Meine Ruh’ ist hin, My peace is gone

Mein Herz ist schwer, My heart is heavy;
Ich finde sie nimmer I shall never
Und nimmermehr. Ever find peace again.
Wo ich ihn nicht hab’ When he’s not with me,
Ist mir das Grab, Life’s like the grave;
Die ganze Welt The whole world
Ist mir vergällt. Is turned to gall.
Mein armer Kopf My poor head
Ist mir verrückt Is crazed,
Mein armer Sinn My poor mind
Ist mir zerstückt. Shattered.
Meine Ruh’ ist hin, My peace is gone
Mein Herz ist schwer, My heart is heavy;
Ich finde sie nimmer I shall never
Und nimmermehr. Ever find peace again.
Nach ihm nur schau’ ich It’s only for him
Zum Fenster hinaus, I gaze from the window,
Nach ihm nur geh’ ich It’s only for him
Aus dem Haus. I leave the house.
Sein hoher Gang, His proud bearing
Sein’ edle Gestalt, His noble form,
Seines Mundes Lächeln, The smile on his lips,
Seiner Augen Gewalt. The power of his eyes,
Und seiner Rede And the magic flow
Zauberfluss. Of his words,
Sein Händedruck, The touch of his hand,
Und ach, sein Kuss! And ah, his kiss!
Meine Ruh’ ist hin, My peace is gone
Mein Herz ist schwer, My heart is heavy;
Ich finde sie nimmer I shall never
Und nimmermehr. Ever find peace again.
Mein Busen drängt sich My bosom
Nach ihm hin. Yearns for him.
Ach dürft’ ich fassen Ah! if I could clasp
Und halten ihn. And hold him,
Und küssen ihn And kiss him
So wie ich wollt’ To my heart’s content,
An seinen Küssen And in his kisses
Vergehen sollt’! Perish!
Translations by Richard Stokes, author of The
Book of Lieder (Faber, 2005)
Nacht und Träume
Matthäus von Collin
Heil’ge Nacht, du sinkest nieder;
Nieder wallen auch die Träume,
Wie dein Mondlicht durch die Räume,
Durch der Menschen stille Brust.
Die belauschen sie mit Lust;
Rufen, wenn der Tag erwacht:
Kehre wieder, heil’ge Nacht!
Holde Träume, kehret wieder!
An die Musik
Franz von Schober
Du holde Kunst, in wieviel grauen Stunden,
Wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis umstrickt, 
Hast du mein Herz zu warmer Lieb
entzunden,  when I am enmeshed in life’s tumultuous
Hast mich in eine bessre Welt entrückt!
Oft hat ein Seufzer, deiner Harf entflossen,  love,
Ein süsser, heiliger Akkord von dir
Den Himmel bessrer Zeiten mir erschlossen, 
Du holde Kunst, ich danke dir dafür!
Si mes vers avaient des ailes
Victor Hugo
Mes vers fuiraient, doux et frêles,
Vers votre jardin si beau,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes,
Comme l’oiseau.
Ils voleraient, étincelles,
Vers votre foyer qui rit,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes,
Comme l’esprit.
Près de vous, purs et fidèles,
Ils accourraient nuit et jour,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes,
Comme l’amour.
Night and Dreams
English Translation © Richard Wigmore
Holy night, you sink down;
dreams, too, float down,
like your moonlight through space,
through the silent hearts of men.
They listen with delight,
crying out when day awakes:
come back, holy night!
Fair dreams, return!
To Music
English Translation © Richard Wigmore
Beloved art, in how many a bleak hour,
round, 
have you kindled my heart to the warmth of
 
and borne me away to a better world!
Often a sigh, escaping from your harp,
a sweet, celestial chord
has revealed to me a heaven of happier
times. 
Beloved art, for this I thank you!
If my verses had wings
English Translation © Richard Stokes
My verses would flee, sweet and frail,
To your garden so fair,
If my verses had wings,
Like a bird.
They would fly, like sparks,
To your smiling hearth,
If my verses had wings,
Like the mind.
Pure and faithful, to your side
They’d hasten night and day,
If my verses had wings,
Like love!
Translations by Richard Stokes, from A
French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)

Beau Soir
Paul Bourget
Lorsque au soleil couchant les rivières sont
roses,
Et qu’un tiède frisson court sur les champs de
blé,
Un conseil d’être heureux semble sortir des
choses
Et monter vers le cœur troublé;
Un conseil de goûter le charme d’être au
monde
Cependant qu’on est jeune et que le soir est
beau,
Car nous nous en allons, comme s’en va cette
onde:
Elle à la mer—nous au tombeau!
Translation into English by Ann Feeney (added
1997-04-04)
Elle a fui, la tourtelle!, Antonia's
aria from Les Contes d'Hoffmann
Elle a fui, la tourtelle!
Ah! souvenir trop doux!
Image trop cruelle!
Hélas! à  mes genoux,
Je l'entends, je le vois!
Je l'entends, je le vois!
Elle a fui, la tourterelle,
Elle a fui loin de toi;
Mais elle est toujours fidèle
Et te garde sa foi.
Mon bienaimé, ma voix t'appelle,
Oui, tout mon coeur est à  toi.
Chère fleur qui viens d'éclore
Par pitié réponds moi!
Toi qui sais s'il m'aime encore,
S'il me garde sa foi!
Mon bienaimé, ma voix t'implore,
Ah! que ton coeur vienne à  moi.
Elle a fui, la tourterelle,
Elle a fui loin de toi.
‘O mio babbino caro’
O mio babbino caro
Mi piace, è bello, bello
Vo’ andare in Porta Rossa
A comperar l’anello!
Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!
Beautiful evening
English Translation © Richard Stokes
When at sunset the rivers are pink
And a warm breeze ripples the fields of wheat,
All things seem to advise content -
And rise toward the troubled heart;
Advise us to savour the gift of life,
While we are young and the evening fair,
For our life slips by, as that river does:
It to the sea - we to the tomb.
Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French
Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)
She has fled, the turtledove!
Ah, memory too sweet, Image
too cruel! Alas, at my
knees, I hear him, I see
him! I hear him, I see
him!
She has flown, the turtledove,
She has flown far from you; But
she is always faithful And keeps
her vow My
beloved, my voice calls you
Yes, all my heart is yours
Dear flower, just opened,
Have pity, answer me.
You who knows if he still lives me,
If he keeps his vow.
My beloved, my voice begs you,
Ah, let your heart come to me.
She has flown, the turtledove,
She has flown far from you.
Word-by-word translation by Ann Feeney,
afeeney@Mcs.Net
My dear father,
I like him,he’s beautiful, beautiful;
I want to go to Porta Rossa So ben:
and buy the ring! le angoscie tue non le vuoi dir,
Ma ti senti morir!
Yes, yes, I want to go!
E se l’amassi indarno, And if my love is in vain,
Andrei sul Ponte Vecchio, I would go upon the Ponte Vecchio(the old
Ma per buttarmi in Arno! Bridge in Florence),
Mi struggo e mi tormento! only to jump in the Arno(the river in Florence),
O Dio, vorrei morir! I long for him and torment myself
Babbo, pietà, pietà! O God, I’d like to die!
Babbo, pietà, pietà! Father, have pity, have pity!
Father, have pity, have pity!
Translated by Giuseppe Cusmano
(gcusman@tin.it)
Ariadatabase.com
In Quelle Trine Morbide
MANON English Translation:
È ver! L'ho abbandonato MANON
senza un saluto, un bacio! It's ver! I abandoned it
Si guarda intorno e si ferma cogli occhi all'alcova. without a greeting, a kiss!
In quelle trine morbide … He looks around and stops with his eyes at the
nell'alcova dorata v'è un silenzio alcove.
gelido, mortal, v'è un silenzio, In those soft lace ...
un freddo che m'agghiaccia! in the golden alcove there is a silence
Ed io che m'ero avvezza frosty, mortal, there is a silence,
a una carezza a cold that chills me!
voluttuosa And I was used to it
di labbra ardenti e d'infuocate braccia to a caress
or ho tutt'altra cosa! voluptuous
pensierosa of burning lips and fiery arms
O mia dimora umile, or I have another thing!
tu mi ritorni innanzi pensively
gaia, isolata, bianca O my humble home,
come un sogno gentile you come back to me
di pace e d'amor! gay, isolated, white
like a kind dream
Quando m’en vo’: of peace and of love!
MUSETTA
English Translation:
Quando m’en vo soletta per la via,
MUSETTA
La gente sosta e mira
E la bellezza mia tutta ricerca in me When I go walk all alone in the street,
Da capo a pie'... People stop and stare at me
And look for my whole beauty
Ed assaporo allor la bramosia
From head to foot.
Sottil, che da gli occhi traspira
E dai palesi vezzi intender sa And then I taste the slight yearning
Alle occulte beltà. which transpires from their eyes,
Così l'effluvio del desìo and which is able to perceive from manifest
tutta m'aggira, charms to most hidden beauties.
Felice mi fa! So the scent of desire is all around
me, it makes me happy!
E tu che sai, che memori e ti struggi
Da me tanto rifuggi?
And you, while knowing, reminding and longing,
you shrink from me?
I know it very well:
you don’t want to express your anguish,
but you feel as if you’re dying!

Translated by Giuseppe Cusmano

(gcusman@tin.it)
Ariadatabase.com