lirik lagu o miseria d’amante – olga neuwirth
[mixed chorus]
o miseria d’amante
fuggir quel che si
brama, io moro, brama, io moro, brama, io moro
pin de la morte…
[narrator]
in the summer of that disastrous winter
which saw the frost, the flood the death of many thousands
and the complete downfall of orlando’s hopes…
for he was exiled from court in deep disgrace
in that summer orlando retired to his house in the country…
and there lived in complete solitude
solitude was his choice
had orlando, worn out by the extremity of his suffering died for a week?
[mixed chorus]
one, two, three. seven days…
hе sleeps the pain is so deep
the only way is to die in sleep
[doctors]
sleeping without waking?
barеly breathing?
day after day, day after day, day after day, day after day
how can this be?
he must be mad!
no doctor could understand
[narrator]
of what nature are these sleeps?
has the finger of death to be laid
on the tumult of life from time to time
lest it rend us asunder?
[children’s chorus]
to the doctors we said:
“no more monkey business bouncing on the bed.”
[orlando]
i will become a poet
my fathers fought wars and what remained?
a skull, a finger
but i will leave pages
[narrator]
memory is the seamstress, and a capricious one at that
memory runs her needle in and out, up and down, hither and thither
orlando was a n0bleman afflicted with a love of literature
he was proud to be called a scholar
and sneered at for his love of books and solitude
but after several months of feverish writing
he decided to break his solitude of many years
and communicate with the outer world again
[orlando]
i need company!
i invited you here, mr. greene to speak about the sacred, sacred subject of poetry… poetry… poetry!
[mr. greene]
my lord, the elizabethan age is inferior in every way
shakespeare is the chief offender!
[orlando]
shakespeare? more venison, wild fowl, wine?
(is this truly what a great poet looks like?)
[mr. greene]
pour, pour! now, all writers are, are, are in pay, pay, pay, pay of the book, book, of the book, book, book, book, booksellers
sellers, sellers, sellers, booksellers
and pour out any trash that will sell
sell, sell, sell, sell, sell
the great age of literature was the greek, my lord
they cherished divine ambition, much as it hurts me to say
for i love literature as i love my life
i can see no, no, no, no good in the present
and no… no… no hope for the future
pour, pour!
had i a pension of three hundred pounds a year, paid quarterly
i would live for glawr alone
[orlando]
i, myself, sir, have been so rash to write poetry
[mr. greene]
oh, did you hear the mouse squeak?
[orlando]
* no
[mr. greene]
the truth is that my nerves are in a state where a mouse’s squeak
upsets, upsets them for a week
the palsy, the palsy, the gout, gout
ague, ague, the palsy, the palsy, the gout, ague…
[orlando]
sir…
[mr. greene]
i am so finely made and strangely put together
it confounds me to think i have only sold five hundred copies of my poem
but that is of course due to the conspiracy against me
the great age of literature is past, my lord
if i stay here another minute, i will never write another line
i must take a… leave for the city, dear lord, or i will die
[orlando]
would you give me your opinion on my poetry?
[mr. greene]
* cicero, that’s what i call…
[orlando
mr. greene, i promise to pay you a pension quarterly
[mr. greene]
the spoiled n0bleman whose real name is orlando
writes ‘aristocratic’ poetry
which i find wordy and bombastic
in the extreme!”
[narrator]
“tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time
and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death
life’s but a walking shadow.”
orlando feels like “his tale is told by an idiot
full of sound and fury, signifying nothing”
because at the age of thirty
orlando had had not only every experience that life had to offer
but had seen the worthlessness of them all
love and ambition, women and poets were all equally vain
[orlando]
i am done, done with men, men, men
done with men
i have asked the king
to make me an ambassador to the land, the land
the land farthest away
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