Mia benigna fortuna (Cipriano de Rore): Difference between revisions

From ChoralWiki
Jump to navigation Jump to search
m (Text replace - ' ' to ' ')
m (Text replace - "http://icking-music-archive.org/ByComposer/" to "{{website|wimabycomp}}")
Line 2: Line 2:
{{Legend}}
{{Legend}}


*{{CPDLno|4643}} [http://icking-music-archive.org/ByComposer/Rore.html {{net}}]  
*{{CPDLno|4643}} [{{website|wimabycomp}}Rore.html {{net}}]  
{{Editor|Vincent Carpentier|2003-02-22}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|4|400}}{{Copy|CPDL}}
{{Editor|Vincent Carpentier|2003-02-22}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|4|400}}{{Copy|CPDL}}
:'''Edition notes:''' Link changed (11/13/03) to Icking archive.
:'''Edition notes:''' Link changed (11/13/03) to Icking archive.

Revision as of 07:41, 28 March 2012

Music files

L E G E N D Disclaimer How to download
ICON SOURCE
File details.gif File details
Question.gif Help


  • CPDL #04643:  Network.png
Editor: Vincent Carpentier (submitted 2003-02-22).   Score information: A4, 4 pages, 400 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: Link changed (11/13/03) to Icking archive.

General Information

Title: Mia benigna fortuna
Composer: Cipriano de Rore

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SecularMadrigal

Language: Italian
Instruments: a cappella
Published:

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

Italian.png Italian text

Mia benigna fortuna e il viver lieto
I chiari giorni e le tranquille notti
E i soavi sospiri, e il dolce stile
Che solea resonare in versi e in rime
Volti subitamente in doglia e in pianto
Odiar vita mi fanno, e bramar morte.

Crudele, acerba inesorabil morte
Cagion mi dai di mai non esser lieto
Ma di menar tutta mia vita in pianto
E i giorni oscuri e le dogliose notti;
I miei gravi sospir non vanno in rime
E il mio duro martir vince ogni stile.

French.png French text

Ma bonne fortune et la vie heureuse,
Les jours clairs et les nuits tranquilles
Et les soupirs suaves et le doux style
Qui d'habitude sonne en vers et en rimes
Ce sont spudainement transformés en douleurs et en pleurs,
Ils me font haïr la vie et désirer ardemment la mort.

Cruelle, amère et inexorable mort,
Tu me donnes raison de ne plus jamais être joyeux
Mais de passer toute ma vie en pleurs
Et les jours obscurs et les nuits dolentes
Et mes profonds soupirs ne deviennent pas rimes
Et mon dur martyr est vainqueur de tout style.