possibly by
Ottavio Rinuccini (1562 - 1621)
Amor ch'attendi
Language: Italian (Italiano)
Amor ch'attendi,
Amor che fai?
Su, che non prendi
Gli strali omai;
Amor vendetta,
Amor saetta
Quel cor ch'altero
Sdegna 'l tuo impero.
Ò pompa, ò gloria,
Ò spoglie altere,
Nobil vittoria
S'Amor la fere;
Amor ardisci,
Amor ferisci,
Amor et odi
Qual havrai lodi.
Amor possente
Amor cortese
Dirà la gente
Pur arse e prese
Quella crudele,
Che, di querele
Vaga, e di pianti,
Schernia gli amanti.
Quel cor superbo
Langue e sospira,
Quel viso acerbo
Pietate spira.
Fatti duoi fiumi
Quei crudi lumi,
Pur versan fore
Pianto d'amore.
Se cruda e ria
Negò mercede,
Humile e pia
Mercede hor chiede.
Ò face, ò strale,
Alta immortale,
Che fia che scampi
S'il ghiaccio avvampi.
Dall'alto cielo
Fulmina Giove,
L'Arcier di Delo
Saette piove,
Ma lo stral d'oro
S'orni d'alloro
Che di possanza
Ogni altro avanza.
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, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Paolo Montanari) , title 1: "Love, what are you waiting for?", copyright © 2005, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 48
Word count: 136
Love, what are you waiting for?
Language: English after the Italian (Italiano)
Love, what are you waiting for?
Love, what are you doing?
Come on! why don't you take
your arrows now at last?
Love, revenge!
Love, hit with your darts
that haughty heart
that disdains your kingdom.
O pomp, o glory,
o proud booty,
what a noble victory
if Love hurts her;
Love, dare!
Love, hurt her!
Love, and hear
what praises you will receive.
Mighty Love,
gentle Love,
people will say
"eventually she did burn with the fire of love,
that cruel woman
who, eager for moans
and tears,
scorns her lovers."
That arrogant heart
now is languishing and sighing,
that sharp face
now moves to pity.
Those cruel eyes,
turned to two rivers,
do now pour out
tears of love.
If she once cruel and wicked
denied mercy
now, humble and pious,
she asks for it.
O fire, o arrow,
noble, immmortal,
what will escape you
if you set on fire the ice?
From the high heaven,
Jupiter throws thunderbolts,
Apollo, the bowman of Delos,
rains darts,
but let the golden arrow
be adorned with laurel,
for it exceeds
any other in power.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2005 by Paolo Montanari, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2005-10-11
Line count: 48
Word count: 184