Lagrime mie - Barbara Strozzi

“Lagrime mie” - Barbara Strozzi
Crossley Hawn, soprano
Paula Maust, harpsichord
Recorded with Musica Spira

Translation:

My tears, why do you hold back?
Why do you not let burst forth the fierce pain
that takes my breath and oppresses my heart?

Lidia, whom I so much adore,
Because she looked on me with a pitiable glance
is imprisoned by her strict father.
Between two walls
the beautiful innocent one is confined,
where the sun’s ray can't reach her;
and what grieves me most,
and adds torment and pain to my agony,
is that my beloved
suffers on my account.

And you, sorrowful eyes, you don't cry?
My tears, why do you hold back?

Alas, I yearn for Lidia,
my idol whom I so much adore;
she's captured in hard marble,
she for whom I sigh and yet do not die.

Because I welcome death,
now that I'm deprived of hope;
Ah, take away my life,
I pray to you, my bitter pain.

But well I realize that to torment me
even more
Fate denies me even death.
Since it's true, oh God,
that vicious Destiny
thirsts only for my wailing,
My tears, why do you hold back?

[RUsMJ]

Bravo Crossley... So beautiful, it makes me cry. I love filling my home with the sound of your voice.

[gregmcniff]

Crossley. As beautiful as ever you are so talented. Love your presentations

[notlih]

Absolutely beautiful, Crossley, as if Strozzi knew that you would be coming along.

[walterkoziol]

Simply incredible like always ma'am.

[mattaz]

Beautiful performance by a beautiful soloist. If possible, try a TelePrompter so you may follow the camera with your eyes and excellent emotions will be fully seen.

[notlih]

Lagrime mie, à che vi trattenete,
Perchè non isfogate il fier’ dolore,
Chi mi toglie’l respiro e opprime il core?

Lidia, che tant’ adoro,
Perchè un guardo pietoso, ahimè, mi donò
I paterno rigor l’impriggionò.
Tra due mura rinchiussa stà la bella innocente,
Dove giunger non può raggio di sole,
E quel che più mi duole
Ed accresc’il mio mal, tormenti e pene,
È che per mia cagione prova male il mio bene
E voi lume dolenti non piangete!
Lagrime mie, à che vi trattenete?

Lidia, ahimè, veggo mancarmi, l’idol mio,
Che tanto adoro!
Stà colei tra duri marmi per cui spiro
E pur non moro.
Se la morte m’è gradita,
Or che son privo di spene,
Dhè, toglietemi la vita
(Ve ne prego) aspre mie pene!
Ma ben m’accorgo, che per tormentarmi
maggiormente, La sorte mi niega anco la morte.
Se dunque è vero, o Dio, che sol del pianto mio.
Il rio destino ha sete.
Lagrime mie, à che vi trattenete?