Voi Che Sapete... Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Though Lorenzo da Ponte's 1749-1838 libretto Voi che sapete aria for Mozart's Nozze di Figaro has been well known since composition, what may be less understood that its original words may be traced to at least late 16th century England, and that variations on the theme suggest English as well as French sources.

Love

Two lines shall tell the grief
That I by love sustain:
I burn, I flame, I faint, I freeze,
Of Hell I feel the pain.

Barnabe Googe 1540_1594

Love

Two lines shall teach you how
To purchase ease anew:
Let reason rule, where love did reign,
And idle thoughts eschew.

George Turberville 1540_1610

Lorenzo da Ponte's 1749-1838 libretto

Voi che sapete che cosa è amor
donne, vedete s'io l'ho nel cor.
Quello ch'io provo, vi ridirò
e per me nuovo, capir no'l sò.
Sento un affetto pien di desir
ch'ora è diletto, ch'ora è martir.
Gelo, e poi sento l'alma avvampar
e in un momento torno a gelar.
Ricerco un bene fuori di me
non sò chi'l tiene, non sò cos'è.
Sospiro e gemo senza voler
palpito e tremo senza saper.
Non trovo pace notte nè di
ma pur mi piace languir così.
Voi che sapete che cosa è amor
donne vedete s'io l'ho nel cor;
Donne vededte s'io l'ho nel cor
donne vedete s'io l'ho nel cor.

English Translation

Tell me what love is, what can it be
What is this yearning burning me?
Can I survive it, will I endure?
This is my sickness, is there a cure?
First his obsession seizing my brain,
Starting in passion, ending in pain.
I start to shiver, then I'm on fire,
Then I'm aquiver with seething desire.
Who knows the secret, who holds the key?
I long for something - what can it be?
My brain is reeling, I wonder why;
And then the feeling I'm going to die.
By day it haunts me, haunts me by night.
This tender torment, tinged with delight!
Tell me what love is, what can it be?
What is this yearning, burning in me?
What is this yearning, burning in me?
What is this yearning, burning in me?

see also

Of Love

If Love it be not, what is this I feel?
If it be Love, what Love is, fain I'd know?
If good, why the effects severe and ill?
If bad, why do its torments please me so?
If willingly I burn, should I complain?
If 'gainst my will, what helps it to lament?
Oh living Death! oh most delightful pain!
How comes all this, if I do not consent?
If I consent, 'tis madness then to grieve;
Amidst these storms, in a weak boat I'm tost
Upon a dangerous sea, without relief,
No help from Reason, but in Error lost.
Which way in this distraction shall I turn,
That freeze in Summer, and in Winter burn?


Philip AYRES 1638_1712 This seems to have been translated from the Italian in turn from an earlier French version. It is inconceivable that Ayres could have been unfamiliar with Barnabe Googe's poem

Possible French Source and translation Jonathan Robin

Je suis pour votre Amour diversement Malade

Je suis pour votre Amour diversement Malade
maintenant plein de froid, maintenant de chaleur;
dedans le coeur pour vous autant j'ai de doleurs
comme il y a de grains dedans votre grenade.

Yeux qui fistes sur moi la première embuscade,
désattisez ma flamme et désechez mes pleurs.
Il faut, vous me le pouvez, car le mal dont je meurs
est si grand qu'il ne peut se guérir d'une oeillade.

Ma dame, croyez-moi, je trépasse pour vous,
Je n'ai ni artère, nerf, tendon, veine ni pouls
qui ne sente d'amour la fièvre continue.
L'amour a la grenade en symbole était joint.
Ses grains en ont encore la force retenue,
que de signe et d'effet vous ne connaissez point.

Pierre RONSARD Sonnets pour Hélène: Book I xxxv

Lovesick

Help! Lovesick I am struck, ‘tis plain, I'm taken ill,
E'en hot and cold I blow, now hot and cold again.
Lift swift ice aches which snow, scald poor fired heart's pores swill,
End pain - I've come unstuck - pour pomegranate grain.
Neat eyes which first though luck heart ambushed, reign instilled,
Extinguish love's flame flow, dry icy, briny rain.
Live must I, yet can't, know Death spurns love's burns down drain
Although life's strong my doe, nought cures your glow, your will.
My Dear, believe me here for you I die, lie still,
Out sinew, nerve! Vain vein! No pulse may one sustain!
Unless in you they're lain, wild fever wracks the brain!
Real love's symbolic plain as pomegranate's spill.
Jointly their seeds sufficient strength retain,
Rhyme, reason elsewhere one must seek in vain!

10 September 1987 revised 15 May 1989,26 September 1997 4 February 2009 robi3_0216
Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 Sonnets pour Hélène: Book I xxxv

Alternative French Source
O Amour

O Amour O Penser O désir plein de flamme,
Ton trait, ton fol appat, la rigueur que je sens,
Me blesse, me mourrit, conduit mes jeunes ans
A la mort, aux douleurs au profond d'une lame.

Injuste Amour, Penser, Désirs, cours à ma Dame,
Porte lui, loge lui, fais voir comme présents
A son coeur en l'esprit à ses yeux meutrissants
Le même trait, mes pleurs, les feux que j'ai dans l'âme.

Force fais consentir contrains sa résistance,
Sa beauté, son dédain, et fière constance;
A plaintre, à soupirer, à soulager mes voeux,

Les tourments, les sanglots, et les cruels supplices
Que j'ai, que je chéris, que je tiens pour délices
En aimant, en pensant, En désirant son mieux.

Joachim du BELLAY 1515_1560