Britten: Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo, Op. 22 - Sonetto XXXI - Peter Pears, Бенджамин Бриттен

A che più debb’io mai l’intensa voglia

Sfogar con pianti o con parole meste

Se di tal sorte 'l ciel, che l’alma veste

Tard' o per tempo, alcun mai non ne spoglia?

A che 'l cor lass' a più morir m’invoglia

S’altri pur dee morir?

Dunque per queste

Luci l’ore del fin fian men moleste;

Ch’ogn' altro ben val men ch’ogni mia doglia

Però se 'l colpo, ch’io ne rub' e 'nvolo

Schifar non poss';

almen, s'è destinato

Ch entrerà 'nfra la dolcezza e 'l duolo?

Se vint' e pres' i' debb’esser beato

Maraviglia non è se nud' e solo

Resto prigion d’un Cavalier armato

To what more do I ever owe the intense desire

Let it out with tears or with sad words

If so is heaven, which the soul dresses

Late or in time, does anyone ever strip them?

What makes me want more to die

If others must die?

So for these

Lights the hours of the end less troublesome;

Anything else is worth less than my every pain

But if the blow, that I stole from it, is not clear

Schifar not poss';

at least, he's destined for it

Who will enter between sweetness and sorrow?

If he vint 'and pres' i' he must be blessed

Maraviglia is not if naked and alone

I remain imprisoned by an armed Cavalier