Saturday, May 30, 2009

Casta Diva!!! Maria Callas and Rosa Ponselle

Rosa Ponselle was Maria Callas' idol. I can see why...





Casta Diva, che inargenti
queste sacre antiche piante
a noi volgi il bel sembiante
senza nube e senza vel...
Tempra, o Diva
tempra tu de’ cori ardenti
tempra ancora lo zelo audace,
spargi in terra quella pace
che regnar tu fai nel ciel...
Fine al rito : e il sacro bosco  
Sia disgombro dai profani.
Quando il Nume irato e fosco,
Chiegga il sangue dei Romani,
Dal Druidico delubro
La mia voce tuonerà.
Cadrà; punirlo io posso.
(Ma, punirlo, il cor non sa.
Ah! bello a me ritorna
Del fido amor primiero;
E contro il mondo intiero...
Difesa a te sarò.
Ah! bello a me ritorna
Del raggio tuo sereno;
E vita nel tuo seno,
E patria e cielo avrò.
Ah, riedi ancora qual eri allora,
Quando il cor ti diedi allora,
Ah, riedi a me.)


O pure Goddess, who silver
These sacred ancient plants,
Turn thy beautiful semblance on us
Unclouded and unveiled...
Temper, o Goddess,
The brave zeal
Of the ardent spirits,
Scatter on the earth the peace
Thou make reign in the sky...
Complete the rite : and the sacred wood
Be clear of the laity.
When the irate and gloomy God
Asks for the Roman’s blood
My voice will thunder
From the Druidic temple.
He will fall ; I can punish him
(Ah! Return to me beautiful
In your first true love ;
I’ll protect you
Against the entire world.
Ah! Return to me beautiful
With your serene ray;
I’ll have life, sky
And homeland in your heart.
Ah, return again as you were then,
When I gave you my heart then,
Ah, come back to me.)

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Ruben Dario

FATALITY

The tree is happy because it is scarcely sentient;
the hard rock is happier still, it feels nothing:
there is no pain as great as being alive,
no burden heavier than that of conscious life.

To be, and to know nothing, and to lack a way,
and the dread of having been, and future terrors...
And the sure terror of being dead tomorrow,
and to suffer all through life and through the darkness,

and through what we do not know and hardly suspect...
And the flesh that temps us with bunches of cool grapes,
and the tomb that awaits us with its funeral sprays,
and not to know where we go,
nor whence we came!...