Delaney Dam: Lyrics and Translations

March 27, 2024

Love's Philosophy

The fountains mingle with the River
And the Rivers with the Ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another’s being mingle.
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?

She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.

Night

Night comes, a Madonna clad in scented blue.
Rose red her mouth and deep her eyes,
She lights her stars, and turns to where,
Beneath her silver lamp the moon,
Upon a couch of shadow lies
A dreamy child,
The wearied Day.

La regata veneziana

Anzoleta avanti la regata

Là su la machina xe la bandiera varda,
la vedistu, vala a ciapar.
Co quela tornime in qua sta sera,
o pur a sconderte ti pol andar.

In pope, Momolo, no te incantar.

Va, voga d’anema la gondoleta
nè el primo premio te pol mancar,
va là, recordite la to Anzoleta
che da sto pergolo te sta a vardar.

In pope, Momolo, no te incantar,
cori a svolar.

Translation: Anzoleta before the regatta

Over there on the machina the flag is flying,
Look, you can see it, now go for it.
Bring it back to me this evening,
Or else run away and hide.

Once in the boat, Momolo, don’t gawp.
Row the gondola with heart and soul,
Then you cannot help but be first.
Go on, think of your Angelina
Watching you from this balcony.

Once in the boat, Momolo, don’t gawp.
Once in the boat, Momolo, fly like the wind.

Anzoleta co passa la regata

I xe qua, vardeli,
povereti i ghe da drento,
ah contrario tira el vento,
i gha l’acqua in so favor.

El mio Momolo dov’elo?
Ah lo vedo, el xe secondo.
Ah! che smania! mi confondo,
a tremar me sento el cuor.

Su coragio, voga, prima d’esser al paleto se ti voghi,
ghe scometo, tutti indrio ti lassarà.
Caro, par che ei svola, el li magna tutti quanti,
meza barca l’è andà avanti,
ah capisso, el m’a vardà.

Translation: Anzoleta during the regatta

Here they come, here they come, look at them,
The poor things, they’re nearly done in,
Ah, the wind is against them,
But the tide’s in their favour.

My Momolo, where is he?
Ah, I see him, in second place.
Ah! the excitement’s too much for me,
I can feel my heart racing.

Come on, keep it up, row, row,
You must be first to the finish,
If you keep rowing, I’ll lay a bet
You’ll leave all the others behind.

Dear boy, it’s as if he’s flying,
And he’s beating the lot of them,
He’s gone half a length ahead,
Ah! Now I understand – he’s seen me.

Anzoleta dopo la regata

Ciapa un baso, un altro ancora,
caro Momolo, de cuor;
qua destrachite che xe ora de sugarte sto sudor.

Ah t’ho visto co passando
su mi l’ocio ti a butà
e godito respitrando:
un bel premio el ciaparà…

Sì un bel premio in sta bandiera
che xe rossa de color;
gha parlà Venezia intiera,
la t’a dito vincitor.

Ciapa un baso, benedeto a vogar nissun te pol,
de casada de tragheto ti xe el megio barcarol.

Translation: Anzoleta after the regatta

Take a kiss, another,
dear Momolo, from my heart;
here at your right hand is it time to dry your sweat.

Ah I have seen you in passing
by throwing my glance toward you
and enjoyed whispering:
he will catch a beautiful prize…

Yes this flag is a nice prize,
it is red;
of which all of Venice will talk,
you are called the winner.

Take a kiss, no rower is more blessed than you,
yours is the best name among rowers of ferryboats.

Adieux de l'hôtesse arabe

Puisque rien ne t’arrête en cet heureux pays,
Ni l’ombre du palmier, ni le jaune maïs,
Ni le repos, ni l’abondance,
Ni de voir à ta voix battre le jeune sein
De nos sœurs, dont, les soirs, le tournoyant essaim
Couronne un coteau de sa danse,

Adieu, beau voyageur! Hélas adieu.
Oh! que n’es-tu de ceux
Qui donnent pour limite à leurs pieds paresseux
Leur toit de branches ou de toiles!
Que, rêveurs, sans en faire, écoutent les récits,
Et souhaitent, le soir, devant leur porte assis,
De s’en aller dans les étoiles!

Si tu l’avais voulu, peut-être une de nous,
O jeune homme, eût aimé te servir à genoux
Dans nos huttes toujours ouvertes;
Elle eût fait, en berçant ton sommeil de ses chants,
Pour chasser de ton front les moucherons méchants,
Un éventail de feuilles vertes.

Si tu ne reviens pas, songe un peu quelquefois
Aux filles du désert, sœurs à la douce voix,
Qui dansent pieds nus sur la dune;
O beau jeune homme blanc, bel oiseau passager,
Souviens-toi, car peut-être, ô rapide étranger,
Ton souvenir reste à plus d’une!

Hélas! Adieu! bel étranger! Souviens-toi!

Translation: Farewell of the Arabian hostess

Since nothing can keep you in this happy land,
neither shade-giving palm nor yellow corn,
nor repose, nor abundance,
nor the sight of our sisters’ young breasts trembling
at your voice as, in a whirling swarm at evening,
they garland a hillside with their dance,

Farewell, fair traveller! Ah!
Why are you not like those
whose indolent feet venture no further
than their roofs of branch or canvas!
Who, musing, listen passively to tales
and dream at evening, sitting before their door,
of wandering among the stars!

Had you so wished, perhaps one of us,
O young man, would fain have served you, kneeling,
in our ever-open huts;
lulling you asleep with songs, she would have made,
to chase the noisome midges from your brow,
a fan of green leaves.

If you do not return, dream at times
of the daughters of the desert, sweet-voiced sisters,
who dance barefoot on the dunes;
O handsome young white man, fair bird of passage,
remember – for perhaps, O fleeting stranger,
more than one maiden will remember you!

Alas! Farewell, fair stranger! Remember!

Les cavaliers

Ma soeur -
as-tu vu, ma soeur, ces deux cavaliers?
Qui passaient sur leurs noirs coursiers?
Jamais prince, ni fils de reine
N'eut cette grâce souveraine;

Au feu qui brillait dans leurs yeux
On eut cru voir des demidieux
Ah! les belles que leur coeur aime,
possèdent le bien suprême!

Mais las! où donc sont elles,
ces trop heurueses belles?
Quelle palais enchanté
abrite leur félicité?

Vois, ma soeur, encor ces deux cavaliers,
qui repassent sur leurs coursiers;
Jamais prince, ni fils de reine
N'eut cette grâce souveraine.

Mais, o bonheur! regarde donc, ma soeur!
N'est-ce pas une folle erreur?
Tous les deux sous notre fenêtre,
ne les vois-je pas reparaître?

O bonheur, je les vois reparaître,
Qu'ils sont beaux, avec quelle adresse
Ils font danser leurs noirs coursiers!

Ma soeur, c'est à nous que s'adresse
Le salut des fiers cavaliers
C'est à nous, ma souer, c'est à nous!

Translation: The Knights

Sister -
have you seen, sister, those two knights?
The ones that passed on their black horses?
Never princes, nor sons of queens
They don't have that sovereign grace;

From the fire burning in their eyes,
One would have thought they were demigods
Ah! the beauties that their hearts love,
possess the best!

But wait! where are they then,
these happy beauties?
What enchanted palace
shelters their bliss?

See, sister, again the two knights,
who pass again on their horses;
Never princes, nor sons of queens
They don't have that sovereign grace.

But, o happiness! Look at them, sister!
Isn't that a crazy mistake?
Both under our window,
Don't I see them reappearing?

O happiness, I see them reappearing,
They're so cute, how skillfully
they make their horses dance!

Sister, it's to us that addresses
The salute of the proud knights
It's to us, sister, it's to us!

Vado, ma dove?

Vado, ma dove? Oh Dei!
Se de' tormenti suoi,
se de' sospiri miei
non sente il ciel pietà!
Tu che mi parli al core,
Guida i miei passi, amore;
Tu quel ritegno or togli
Che dubitar mi fa.

Translation: I go, but where?

I go, but where? Oh Gods!
If for his torments,
If for my sighs,
Heaven has no pity!
You who speak to my heart,
Guide my footsteps, love;
Remove now the obstacle
That makes me doubt

War es ein Traum

War es ein Traum, dass einst einmal
ich deines Herzens Liebe war?
Erinnerung gleich einem Lied, das niemand mehr wird singen,
wiewohl als Echo noch die Saiten klingen.

Erinnerung, das Heckenröslein, das du mir geschenkt,
Erinnerung, dein Blick, so scheu und liebevoll,
Erinnerung, die Abschiedsträne, die aus deinem Auge quoll,
war alles, alles nur ein Traum?

Ein Traum, so kurz wie eine Küchenschell’ besteht
im Lenz, auf einer grünen Au,
wo ihre Schönheit bald vergeht
vor neuer Blüten bunter Schau.

Doch eine Stimme sagt in mancher Nacht zu mir
durch meiner bittern Tränen Strom:
Bewahre die Erinn’rung tief im Herzen Dir,
dies war dein bester Traum!

Translation: Was it a dream?

Was it a dream, that once upon a blissful time
I was your heart’s friend?
I remember it like a silent song
Whose melody still lingers on.

I remember you gave me a rose
With a look so shy and tender,
I remember the glistening of a parting tear.
Was it all just a dream?

A dream like a wildflower's life,
So brief in the verdant meadow,
Whose beauty quickly withers away
Within an ocean of new flowers

But on many a night I hear a voice
Through a stream of bitter tears.
Hide this memory deep in your heart
For this was your best dream.

Élégie

Ô doux printemps d'autrefois, vertes saisons, vous
avez fui pour toujours ! Je ne vois plus le ciel bleu ; je
n'entends plus les chants joyeux des oiseaux ! En
emportant mon bonheur, Ô bien-aimé, tu t'en es allé !
Et c'est en vain que revient le printemps ! Oui ! Sans
retour, avec toi, le gai soleil, les jours riants sont partis !
Comme en mon coeur tout est sombre et glacé,
tout est flétri pour toujours !

Translation: Elegy

O sweet Spring of yesteryear, green seasons, you have
fled forever! I no longer see the blue sky, I no longer
hear the joyous songs of the birds! You have fled, my
love, and with you has fled my happiness. And it is in
vain that the spring returns! For along with you, the
cheerful sun, the laughing days have gone!
As my heart is dark and frozen,
so all is withered for evermore!

Ich liebe dich

Ich liebe dich, so wie du mich,
Am Abend und am Morgen,
Noch war kein Tag, wo du und ich
Nicht teilten unsre Sorgen.

Auch waren sie für dich und mich
Geteilt leicht zu ertragen;
Du tröstetest im Kummer mich,
Ich weint' in deine Klagen.

Drum Gottes Segen über dir,
Du, meines Lebens Freude.
Gott schütze dich, erhalt' dich mir,
Schütz und erhalt' uns beide.

Translation: I love you

I love you as you love me,
At evening and at morning,
No day there was when you and I
Did not share our sorrows.

And for me and you they were,
When shared, an easy burden;
You comforted me in my distress,
I wept when you lamented.

May God then bless you,
You, my life's delight.
God protect and keep you for me,
Protect and keep us both.

Dans les ruines d'une abbaye

Seuls tous deux, ravis, chantants !
Comme on s’aime !
Comme on cueille le printemps
Que Dieu sème !

Quels rires étincelants
Dans ces ombres
Jadis pleines de fronts blancs,
De cœurs sombres !

On est tout frais mariés.
On s’envoie
Les charmants cris variés
De la joie.

Frais échos mêlés au vent
Qui frissonne !
Gaîtés que le noir couvent
Assaisonne !

On effeuille des jasmins
Sur la pierre
Où l’abbesse joint ses mains
En prière.

On se cherche, on se poursuit,
On sent croître
Ton aube, amour, dans la nuit
Du vieux cloître.

On s’en va se becquetant,
On s’adore,
On s’embrasse à chaque instant,
Puis encore,

Sous les piliers, les arceaux,
Et les marbres.
C’est l’histoire des oiseaux
Dans les arbres.

Translation: In the ruins of an abbey

All alone, two lovers sing,
Laugh, and chatter,
Gathering the sun-swept spring
That God scatters.

Laughter rings out like a bell
In these spaces
Where dark shadows long would dwell
On white faces.

They are wedded just this day,
And are voicing
Lively cheers in their sweet way
Of rejoicing.

Fresh echoes meets the wind
As it dances,
Which the abbey’s somber tint
Quite enhances.

Jasmine fragrance fills the place
As they play there,
Where the abbess bends with grace,
Lost in prayer.

One pursues and one takes flight
As their bonding
Grows amid the somber night
At the convent.

There they go, the chirping ones,
With such passion!
They embrace as much they can,
In their fashion!

Past each column, every arch,
Every statue:
Those sweet lovers are two birds
From the branches.

Love in the Dictionary

Love: A strong, complex emotion or feeling of personal attachment,
causing one to appreciate, delight in, or crave the presence
or possession of the object, and to please and promote the welfare
of that object;
devoted affection or attachment;
specifically, the feeling between husband and wife;
brother and sister;
or lover and sweetheart;
One who is beloved;
a sweetheart;
animal passion;
the personification of the love-passion;
Cupid;
in some games, as tennis, nothing.

An die Musik

Du holde Kunst, in wieviel grauen Stunden,
Wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis umstrickt,
Hast du mein Herz zu warmer Lieb entzunden,
Hast mich in eine bessre Welt entrückt!

Oft hat ein Seufzer, deiner Harf entflossen,
Ein süsser, heiliger Akkord von dir
Den Himmel bessrer Zeiten mir erschlossen,
Du holde Kunst, ich danke dir dafür!

Translation: To Music

Beloved art, in how many a bleak hour,
when I am enmeshed in life’s tumultuous round,
have you kindled my heart to the warmth of love,
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!