Songs

Maddalena alla croce

by Girolamo Frescobaldi

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Text & Translation

Maddalena alla croce
Italian source: Anon.

A' piè della gran croce in cui languiva
Vicino a morte il buon Gesù spirante,
Scapigliata così pianger s'udiva
La sua fedele addolorata amante.

E dell'umor, che da' begli occhi usciva,
E dell'or della chioma ondosa, errante
Non mandò mai, da che la vita è viva
Perle ed oro più bel l'India o l'Atlante:

Come far, dicea lassa, o Signor mio,
Puoi senza me quest'ultima partita?
Come, morendo tu, vincer poss'io?

Che se morir pur vuoi, l'anima unita
Ho teco, (il sai, mio Redentor, mio Dio),
Però teco aver deggio e morte, e vita.

Mary Magdalene at the Cross
English translation © Susannah Howe

At the foot of the towering cross on which
hung Jesus, close to death, breathing his last,
the woman who loved him faithfully
could be heard weeping, maddened by grief.

Since life began, neither India nor the Atlas mountains
has ever produced pearls to match
the tears that flowed from her fair eyes
or gold more precious than her gilded, rippling tresses.

Alas, my Lord (she was saying), how can you
make this final journey without me?
And how, if you are dying, can I live?

For if you have to die, my soul will be the one
with yours (you know this, my Saviour, my God),
since I must share both life and death with you.

Maddalena alla croce
Italian source: Anon.

Mary Magdalene at the Cross
English source: Susannah Howe

A' piè della gran croce in cui languiva
At the foot of the towering cross on which
Vicino a morte il buon Gesù spirante,
hung Jesus, close to death, breathing his last,
Scapigliata così pianger s'udiva
the woman who loved him faithfully
La sua fedele addolorata amante.
could be heard weeping, maddened by grief.

E dell'umor, che da' begli occhi usciva,
Since life began, neither India nor the Atlas mountains
E dell'or della chioma ondosa, errante
has ever produced pearls to match
Non mandò mai, da che la vita è viva
the tears that flowed from her fair eyes
Perle ed oro più bel l'India o l'Atlante:
or gold more precious than her gilded, rippling tresses.

Come far, dicea lassa, o Signor mio,
Alas, my Lord (she was saying), how can you
Puoi senza me quest'ultima partita?
make this final journey without me?
Come, morendo tu, vincer poss'io?
And how, if you are dying, can I live?

Che se morir pur vuoi, l'anima unita
For if you have to die, my soul will be the one
Ho teco, (il sai, mio Redentor, mio Dio),
with yours (you know this, my Saviour, my God),
Però teco aver deggio e morte, e vita.
since I must share both life and death with you.

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