by
Lorenzo Da Ponte (1749 - 1838)
Rivolgete a lui lo sguardo
Language: Italian (Italiano)
Our translations: ENG FRE
GUGLIELMO:
Rivolgete a lui lo sguardo
E vedrete come sta:
Tutto dice, io gelo, io ardo
Idol mio, pietà, pietà,
Io ardo, io gelo, io ardo
Idol mio, pietà, pietà,
E voi cara un sol momento
Il bel ciglio a me volgete
E nel mio ritroverete
Quel che il labbro dir non sa.
Un Orlando innamorato
Non è niente in mio confronte;
Un Medoro il sen piagato
Verso lui per nulla io conto:
Son di foco i miei sospiri
Son di bronzo i suoi desiri,
Se si parla poi di merto
Certo io sono e egli è certo
Che gli uguali non si trovano
Da Vienna al Canadà,
Siam due Credi per ricchezza,
Due Narcisi per bellezza
In amor i Marcantoni
Verso noi sarian buffoni
Siam più forti d'un ciclopo,
Letterati al par di Esopo.
Se balliamo un Pichne chede
Sì gentil e snello è il piede,
Se cantiam col trillo solo
Facciam torto all'usignuolo,
E qualch'altro capitale
Abbiam poi che alcun non sa.
Bella, bella, tengon sodo:
Se ne vanno ed io ne godo!
Eroine di costanza,
specchi son di fedeltà
Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Christian Anderson) , "Return his glance", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Tournez vers lui le regard", copyright © 2018, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Christian Anderson
This text was added to the website: 2014-04-19
Line count: 37
Word count: 181
Return his glance
Language: English after the Italian (Italiano)
GUGLIELMO:
Return his glance
and you'll see how it is:
It says everything: I freeze, I burn
My idol, have pity, pity
I burn, I freeze, I burn
My idol, have pity, pity
And you, beloved, for just a moment
cast your lovely eye on me
And in me you will find
that which the lip doesn't know how to say.
Some love-struck Orlando
Is nothing compared to me;
A Medoro with wounded breast
Is as nothing next to me:
My sighs are fire
His lust is bronze
So if we speak of merit
I am sure and he is sure
You cannot find equals
From Vienna to Canada.
The two of us are rich as Croesus
Handsome as Narcissus
In love, Marc Anthonys
would seem like clowns in comparison
We are stronger than a Cyclops
Writers on par with Aesop.
If we dance, Pichne bows to
our refined narrow feet
Singing, a single trill
puts nightingales to shame
And we have other strengths
That you still don't know.
Beauty, beauty, hold fast:
If they go, I rejoice
Heroines of constancy
are mirrors of faithfulness.
Text Authorship:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2014-04-19
Line count: 37
Word count: 184