La misera farfalla (Bartolomeo de Mutiis): Difference between revisions

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==Original text and translations==
==Original text and translations==
{{Text|Italian|
{{Text|Italian|
La misera farfalla,  
La misera farfalle par,
par che si prend'a gioco di volar,  
che si prend'a gioco di volar,  
di scherzar intorn'al foco,  
di scherzar intorn'al foco,  
e tante volte scherza,  
e tante volte scherza,  
che se fugge la prim'arde la terza
che se fugge la prim'arde la terza.
arde la terra, anch' io  
Anch' io nel foco d'un lucente sguardo  
nel foco d'un lucente sguardo  
volai scherzando hor da dovero n'ardo.}}
volai scherzando hor da dover o n'ardo.}}
 
{{Translation|English}}
''by [[User:Mick Swithinbank|Mick Swithinbank]]<br>
<poem>The wretched moth in game
flutters round the flame,
knows not how fire can maim:
the first time all is well,
the third sounds his death knell.
Once I flew without a care
near the flame of a pair of eyes so fair,
transfixed by one I did adore:
yet truly now I burn no more.
</poem>
 
 


[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Baroque music]]
[[Category:Baroque music]]

Revision as of 08:59, 15 November 2016

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  • (Posted 2016-11-12)  CPDL #41818:      (Finale 2012)
Editor: André Vierendeels (submitted 2016-11-12).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 60 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes:

General Information

Title: La misera farfalla
Composer: Bartolomeo de Mutiis
Lyricist: Pietro Petracci

Number of voices: 1v   Voicing: S

Genre: SecularMadrigal

Language: Italian
Instruments: Basso continuo

{{Published}} is obsolete (code commented out), replaced with {{Pub}} for works and {{PubDatePlace}} for publications.

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

Italian.png Italian text

La misera farfalle par,
che si prend'a gioco di volar,
di scherzar intorn'al foco,
e tante volte scherza,
che se fugge la prim'arde la terza.
Anch' io nel foco d'un lucente sguardo
volai scherzando hor da dovero n'ardo.

English.png English translation by Mick Swithinbank

The wretched moth in game
flutters round the flame,
knows not how fire can maim:
the first time all is well,
the third sounds his death knell.
Once I flew without a care
near the flame of a pair of eyes so fair,
transfixed by one I did adore:
yet truly now I burn no more.