QNTAL LYRICS

1. Sleeping

Weep you no more sad fountains
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun doth gently waste
But my sun's heavenly eyes
View not your weeping
That now lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies sleeping

Sleep is a reconciling
A rest that peace begets
Doth not the sun rise smiling
When fair at even he sets?
Rest you then, rest, sad eyes
Melt not in weeping
While she lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies sleeping

2. Departir

Cant voi l'aube du jour venir,
Nulle rien ne doi tant hair,
K'elle fait de moi departir
Mon amin, cui j'ain per amors.

Or ne hais riens tant com le jour,
Amins, ke me depairt de vos.

Quant je me gix dedens mon lit
Et je regairde encoste mi,
Je n'i truis point de mon amin,
Se m'en plaing a fin amerous.

Or ne hais riens tant com le jour,
Amins, ke me depairt de vos.

Biaus dous amis, vos en ireis ;
A deu soit vos cors comandeis
Por Deu vos pri, ne m'oblieis !
Je n'ain nulle rien tant com vos.

Or pri a tous les vrais amans
Ceste chanson voixent chantant
Ens en despit des medixans
Et des mavais maris jalous.

Or ne hais riens tant com le jour,
Amins, ke me depairt de vos.

3. Slahte Wille

Mir tout einer slahte wille
Sanfte und ist mir doch dar under wê.
Ich minne einen ritter stille,
Dem enmag ich niht versagen mê.

Dicke dunke ich mich sô staete
Mînes willen. Sô mir daz geschiht,
Swie vil er mich denne baete,
Al die wîle sô unhulfe ez niht.

Sît daz im die besten jâhen
Daz er alsô schône kunne leben,
Sô hân ich im mir vil nâhen
Eine stat in mine herzen geben.

4. Translucida

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright!
The bridal of the earth and sky:
The dew shall weep thy fall tonight;
For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.

5. La Froidor

La froidor ne la jalee
Ne puet mon cors refroidir,
Si m'ait s'a mor eschaufee,
Dont plaing et plor et sospir.

Car toute me seux donee
A li servir.

Ne sai consoil de ma vie
Se d'autrui consoil n'en ai,
Car cil m'ait en sa baillie
Cui fui et seux et serai.

Ensi, laisse! K'en puis faire,
Cui Amors justice et prant?
Ne mon cuer n'en puis retraire
Ne d'autrui joie n'atent.

Trop ont anuit et contraire
Li amant

Amors, per moult grant outraige
M'ocieis, ne sai por coi;
Mis n'aveis en mon coraige
D'ameir lai ou je ne doi.

Ma chanson isi define,
Ke joie ait vers moi fineir;
Car j'ai el cors la rasine
Ke ne puis desrasineir

6. Glacies

Cedit, hiems, tua durities;
Frigor abit, rigor et glacies
Brumalis et feritas, rabies,
Torpor et improba segnities.

Veris adest elegans acies,
Clara nitet sine nube dies,
Nocte micant Pliadum facies;
Grata datur modo temperies.

Est pura mundi superficies,
Gramine redolent planities,
Induitur foliis abies,
Picta canit volucrum series,
Prata virent, iuvenum requies.

Nunc, Amor aureus, advenies,
Indomitos tibi subicies.
Tendo manus; michi quid facies?
Quam dederas, rogo, concilies.

Est pura mundi superficies,
Gramine redolent planities,
Induitur foliis abies,
Picta canit volucrum series,
Prata virent, iuvenum requies

7. Worlds Of Light

I'm happiest when most away
I can bear soul from its home of clay
On a windy night when the moon is bright
And the eye can wander through worlds of light.

The world was made of nothing then
This made by nothing now again
Mighty nothing unto thee,
Nothing we owe all things that be.

When I am not and none beside -
Nor earth nor sea nor cloudless sky
But only spirit wandering wide
Through infinite immensity.

The world was made of nothing then
This made by nothing now again
Mighty nothing unto thee,
Nothing we owe all things that be.

8. Obscure

Petit porte de valour
De soy monstrer dehaitié,
Ne le tiennent qu'a folour
Ceulz qui ont le cuer haitié.

Je chante par couverture,
Mais mieulx plourassent mi oeil,
Ne nul ne scet le traveil
Que mon pouvre cuer endure.

Petit porte de valour
De soy monstrer dehaitié,
Ne le tiennent qu'a folour
Ceulz qui ont le cuer haitié.

Si n'ay de demonstrer cure
L'entencion de mon vueil
Ains, tout ainsi com je sueil,
Pour celler ma peine obscure

Je chante par couverture,
Mais mieulx plourassent mi oeil,
Ne nul ne scet le traveil
Que mon pouvre cuer endure.

Petit porte de valour
De soy monstrer dehaitié,
Ne le tiennent qu'a folour
Ceulz qui ont le cuer haitié.

9. Sumer

Do der sumer komen was
Und die bluomen durch daz gras
Wünneclîch entsprungen,
Und die vogel sungen.

Uf dem anger stuont ein boum
Dâ getroumte mir ein troum:
Ich was zuo dem brunnen
Gegangen von der sunnen.

Dô beduhte mich zehant,
Wie mir dienten elliu lant,
Und wie mîn sêle waere
Ze himmel ane swaere.

Do kam ich gegangen
Uf einen anger langen

Dâ ein küeler brunne entsprang
Durch den anger was sîn gang,
Dâ diu nahtigal wol sang.

Dô beduhte mich zehant,
Wie mir dienten elliu lant,
Und wie mîn sêle waere
Ze himmel ane swaere.

Ein vil wunder altez wîp,
Diu getrôste mir den lîp.
Die begunde ich eiden,
Dô begunde si mir bescheiden,

Waz der troum betiute.
Daz merkent, wîse liute:

Zwên und einer, daz sint drî,
Ouch sô seite si mir dâ bî,
Daz min dûme ein vinger sî.

10. Amorous Desir

Mout m'abelist quant je voi revenir
Yver, gresill et gelee aparoir?

Si chanterai d'amors por mieuz valoir,
Car mes fins cuers plains d'amorous desir
Ne mi fait pas ma grant joie faillir.

Car en toz tans se doit bien resjoir
Bele pucele, et joli cuer avoir.

Si chanterai d'amors por mieuz valoir,
Car mes fins cuers plains d'amorous desir
Ne mi fait pas ma grant joie faillir.

11. Passacaglia

Piango, gemo, sospiro e peno.
O, la piaga rinchiusa e nel cor.
Solo chiedo per pace del seno,
Che m’uccida un più fiero dolor.
[Antonio Vivaldi]

[English translation:]

I cry, I moan, I sigh and suffer.
The plague locked in my heart.
I only ask, for peace in my breast,
That a fiercer pain would kill me.

12. Ludus

[Limited Edition Track]

[Lyrics: Carmina Burana]

Erat arbor hec in prato
Quovis flore picturato

Herba, fonte, situ grato,
Sed et umbra, flatu dato.
Stilo non pinxisset Plato
Loca gratiora.

Hic dum placet delectari
Delectatque iocundari

Et ab estu relevari,
Cerno forma singulari
Pastorellam sine pari
Colligentem mora.

Estivali sub fervore,
Quando cuncta sunt in flore,
Totus eram in ardore.
Sub olive me decore,
Estu fessum et sudore,
Detinebat mora.

Que respondit verbo brevit:
“ludos viri non assuevi.

Sunt parentes michi sevi
Mater longioris evi.
Irascetur pro re levi.
Parce nunc in hora!”

Subest fons vivacis vene,
Adest cantus philomene
Naiadumque cantilene,
Paradisus hic est pene,
Non sunt loca, scio plene,
His iocundiora.

In amorem vise cedo,
Fecit Venus hoc, ut credo.
“ades!” inquam ”non sum predo,
Nichil tollo, nichil ledo,
Me meaque tibi dedo,
Pulchrior quam Flora!”

[English translation:]

In the summer heat,
when everything is blooming,
I was feeling all hot.
Under the beauty of an olive,
heat, sweat and fatigue,
drove me to take a break.

That tree was in a meadow,
adorned by all kinds of flowers,
the grass, a fountain - a marvellous place,
being there breeze and shadows too.
Plato, with his stylus, could't have painted
a more pleasant place than this.

Down was the source of the lively torrents,
you could hear the singing of Philomena,
and the chant of the Naiads.
I felt in paradise,
there are no places, this I'm certain,
merrier than this one.

While delighted by the bliss,
enjoying my delight,
recovering from my fatigue,
I notice a shepherdess, one of a kind,
gathering blackberries.

I fall in love at first sight,
Venus made her, I believe.
"Come!", I say, "I'm not a thief,
nothing I steal, nothing I hurt.
I give all myself to you,
who are more beautiful than Flora!"

She answers briefly:
"I'm not used to men's games,
my parents are stern,
my mother is very old,
she is angered by the mildest things.
Now back off!"

13. Unmaere

[Limited Edition Track]

Bin ich dir unmaere,
des enweiz ich niht: ich minne dich.
Einez ist mir swaere:
dû sihst bî mir hin und über mich.
Daz solt dû vermîden.
ine mac niht erlîden
selhe liebe ân grôzen schaden.
hilf mir tragen, ich bin ze vil geladen.

[Lyrics: Walther von der Vogelweide (~1170-1230)]







QNTAL LYRICS