SONG TRANSLATIONS

VOICE, ACTUALLY

CARLA REGINA

Act I
1. Black Is The Color
This song is by American composer and folklorist John Jacob Niles.

Black, black, black is the colour of my true love’s hair
His lips are something rosy fair,
The sweetest smile and the finest hands,
I love the grass whereon he stands.

I love my love and well he knows,
I love the grass whereon he goes
If he no more on earth will be,
‘Twill surely be the end of me.

2. Tarantella Alla Carpinese (Tarantella From Carpino)
This is Carpinese – local Garganic version of Northern Apulian. Developed gradually from local spoken Latin during the early Middle Ages, approximately 600–900 CE.

Take a little shovel and go looking for burning embers,
Go to your lover’s house
And spend a couple of hours in pleasure and play.
If your mother finds out about this game,
Tell her those were just sparks,
A flash of fire.

Vule, vule—
What a woman wants, a woman does.

The sun shines when the weather is fine,
Your breast shines too, fair lady.
Upon your breast you have two silver points.
Whoever touches them, you beauty, becomes a saint.
I touch them, for I am your lover,
Surely we shall go to paradise together.

Vule, vule—
What a woman wants, a woman does.

3. L’Orto (The Vegetable Garden)
This is Andrian dialect spoken in Andria, Apulia

Mother, mother, I’m dying, I’m dying.
What I want is there in the garden.
In the garden there is a pepper,
if you want, I’ll go and fetch it.
What a terrible mother I have—
She does not understand my illness.

Mother, mother, I’m dying, I’m dying.
What I want is there in the garden.
In the garden there is an eggplant,
If you want, I’ll go and fetch it.
What a terrible mother I have—
She does not understand my illness.

Mother, mother, I’m dying, I’m dying.
What I want is there in the garden.
In the garden there is a young man,
If you want, I’ll go and fetch him.
What a wonderful mother I have—
She does understand my illness.

4. Malurous qu’o uno fenno (Unhappy Is The Man Who Has A Wife)
This is Auvergnat, a regional variety of Occitan spoken in Auvergne, central France

Unhappy is the man who has a wife,
Unhappy is the man who has none!
He who has none wants one,
He who has one, does not want any!

Tradèra, ladèri dèrèro,
ladèra, ladèri dèra.

Happy is the woman
Who has the man she wants!
Even happier
Is the woman who has no man at all!
Tradèra, ladèri dèrèro,
ladèra, ladèri dèra.

5. Loosin Yelav (The Moon Has Risen)
This is Armenian

The moon rose from behind that mountain,
From the mountain’s highest peak.
With its red and rosy face,
It spreads a sea of moonlight on the earth.

Oh, dear moon, dear is your light,
Dear is your round and rosy face.

Darkness has already vanished
And disappeared from the earth,
Driven away by the moonlight,
It remains among the dark clouds.

Oh, dear moon, dear is your light,
Dear is your round and rosy face.

6. Moj e bukura More (Oh beautiful Morea)
This is Arbëresh – Albanian variety preserved by historic Albanian communities in southern Italy.

Oh beautiful Morea,
How I left you and never saw you again.
There lies my dear mother,
There lies my brother,
All buried beneath the earth.
Oh beautiful Morea,
How I left you and never saw you again.

7. Ela Ela Mu Conda (You Are A Girl From The Mountain)
This is Grecanico (Calabrian Greek)

You are a girl from the mountain,
And I am a boy from the seashore.
Now that you have grown up,
I want to marry you.
Come, come close to me,
For I am alone.
Come, come close to me,
For I am alone.
As I grow old,
I always pray to the Lord.
I want neither food nor a drink,
I only want to sleep with you.
Come, come close to me,
For I am alone.
Come, come close to me,
For I am alone.

8. Tarantella di San Nicandro (Tarantella from San Nicandro)
This is Sannicandrese dialect, the local speech of San Nicandro Garganico in the Gargano area of northern Apulia. Oh re, re,

The little sparrow is in the oats.
If you do not go and chase it away,
It will eat up all the oats.
I do not want to climb up the mountain,
I don’t want to make that climb.
I go heel and toe,
Look at all the young men up on the mountain.
Farewell, Saint Michael,
This year I come as a maiden;
Next year, I’ll come with my husband.
This year I come alone;
Next year I’ll come with a young man.

9. Inno Alla Desolata (Hymn To Our Lady of Desolation)
This is Italian

Mary stood in sorrow,
Breathless and voiceless,
While there upon the Cross
the Redeemer of the world hung.
And in that fatal moment,
The cruel pang of a mother’s love
Pierced her breast
And tore her heart apart!
What unworthy torment
That fair soul suffered on that day,
The human mind
Cannot imagine.
No, the human mind
Cannot imagine it!
To see a son, a God,
who trembles, who is dying–
What a savage grief!
What mother has ever known
Such cruel anguish?
What mother, what mother ever
Has suffered so?

10. Tarantella del Gargano (Tarantella from Gargano)
This is Carpinese, the traditional dialect of Carpino on the Gargano peninsula in northern Apulia. More accurately, it is Gargano dialect or Garganic Northern Apulian

What must I do to love this woman?
I shall make a beautiful rose garden
All around here, just to make her fall in love.
In the middle, I’ll dig a fine fountain made of precious gems and fine gold,
A nice fountain where spring water flows.
On top of it, I will put a singing bird.
It will sing and rest, tweeting: “Beautiful one.”
For you I would become a bird; so that I can sleep beside you, beautiful lady.
I’ve fallen in love with the way you walk and talk.
If you weren’t this beautiful, I wouldn’t have fallen in love,
Why are you angry with me, my love? What do you want me to do?
Your mother already knows that I love you, and I want you to know it too.

11. Ballo (Dance)

Love makes even the wisest lose their reason,
And the more one loves, the less he knows restraint.
The one who falls most deeply in love is the greatest fool.
Love does not care about the harm it causes.
With its rays, it kindles such a heat
That no cold can ever cool it.

11. Pizzica di Aradeo (Pizzica from Aradeo)
This is Salentino, a Romance dialect spoken in the Salento area of southern Apulia

My little tambourine came from Rome,
A Neapolitan woman brought it to me.
Look who is dancing now:
A dove and a goldfinch are dancing.
And my little tambourine has one habit:
It makes all the young girls dance.
If you see a foot beginning to move,
That is the sign that someone wants to dance.
Dance, all of you, dance with all your might!
For the taranta is alive and is not dead.

12. La Donna Ideale (Ideal Woman)
This is Ligurian, specifically the Genoese dialect

A man who wants to take a wife
Should examine four things:
The first is the family she was born into,
The second is whether she is well brought up,
The third is what she looks like,
The fourth is how large her dowry is.
If you have considered these things,
Then, in the name of God, take her as your wife.

13. Aremu rindineddha (I wonder, my little swallow)
This is Salentine Griko, it is spoken in the Grecìa Salentina area of Apulia

I wonder, my little swallow,
Where you have come from,
What sea you have crossed
In this fine weather.
If I knew that you were passing
Near my homeland,
Oh, how many things I would have asked you
To tell me!
I would have asked you about my mother,
Whom I love so dearly,
Who has been waiting for me for so long,
Waiting to see me again.
But you tell me nothing,
No matter how much I ask you.
You rise a little, then dip a little,
Then lightly skim the water.

14. Pizzica di San Vito (Pizzica of San Vito)
This is Northern Salentino, often called Sanvitese. It is a Romance dialect related to Italian

I was not supposed to come,
I was not supposed to come,
I was not supposed to come, yet here I am,
For your sighs have called me here.
Ah, uellì, now I see him coming,
I see him drawing near.
He takes me by the hand,
Then he moves away.
You are more beautiful, you are more beautiful,
You are more beautiful than a cherry.
Fortunate is your beloved
When he kisses you.
Ah, uellì, uellì, uellà,
When I call my village sweetheart,
she must come.
Your hair, your hair—
I have fallen in love with your hair,
And the way it streams freely in the wind.
Eye to eye:
May whoever speaks ill of us
Lose their sight,
And may their heart burst.
I tell you again, I tell you again,
I tell you once again:
This serenade is for all gathered here,
And for San Vito,
This serenade is for all gathered here.
Ah, uellì, uellì, uellà,
Once again, take care,
And do not forget me.

15. Ninna Nanna di Bitonto (Bitonto Lullaby)
This is Bitontino, the local dialect of Apulia.

Lullaby, lullaby,
Here comes the lullaby.
No one loves you
As your mother does.
As your mother does,
And as your father does,
As your relatives do,
As your relatives and your aunts do.
Little lullaby, little lullaby,
The wolf has eaten
The little lamb.
Little lullaby, little lullaby.
What bread do you eat,
What bread do they feed you
To make you so beautiful.
Fly, lullaby, fly,
Everyone is asleep,
But you are not asleep yet.
Sleep, Sleep,
If you, Sleep, mean to come,
Come by night and not by day.
Lullaby, lullaby,
No one loves you,
No one loves you
As your mother does.

16. Qifti. Ishi një ditë të muoj të maji (It was a day in the month of May)
This is Arbëresh, specifically the variety traditionally spoken in Chieuti, southern Italy.

It was a day in the month of May,
Full of sunshine and with no wind at all.
I raised my eyes towards the sky
And saw an Arbëresh kite over there.
It watched me with those eyes,
Like the eyes of the swallows and those of Our Lady Saint Mary.
I went down into the garden
And saw a flower that caught my eye.
When I brought it to my mother,
She asked me, “What flower is this?”
It was the flower that caught my eye,
I reached out my hand
and picked it joyfully.

17. Chengetelle
This is Gargano/Apricena variety of Northern Apulian dialect

She was lovely, oh so lovely, lovely at fifteen.
What a fine couple Chengetelle and Don Giovanni make!
Now let us go beneath the cherry tree.
Chengetelle, Chengetelle, give me a kiss.
Now let us go beneath the apple tree.
Chengetelle, Chengetelle is no longer the same.
Beneath the olive tree Chengetelle
Is no longer, no longer a maiden.
Chengetelle and Don Giovanni are in the courtyard.
The girl has lost her good name.
“Don Giovanni, buy me a fine veil.
I am ashamed to go out in my headscarf.”
Chengetelle was lovely, oh so lovely.
She could eat four or five braciole at a time.

18. Ferma Zitella (Stop, Girl)
This is Salentino, a Romance dialect spoken in Salento, southern Apulia

– Stop, girl, now I’ve caught you!
Today I found you all alone.
All alone, all alone,
Today I found you all alone.
– Let me go, dear boy, let me go on my way,
For I am an unmarried girl and may lose my dowry.
My dowry, oh, my dowry,
I am an unmarried girl and may lose my good name.
Come to my room tonight,
My mother is away, and I sleep alone.
I sleep alone, I sleep alone.
My mother is away, and I sleep alone.
– Well, so much for the bolted door!
– Have a little patience, dear boy: I am not alone.
No, I am not alone, I am not alone.
Have a little patience, dear boy: I am not alone.
– It is all my fault that I let you go
When I found you all alone.
All alone, all alone,
When I found you all alone.

19. Beddha ci dormi (My beauty, you are sleeping)
This is Salentino, an Italo-Romance dialect spoken in the Salento area of southern Apulia

My beauty, you are sleeping on your pillows,
While I am out here, while I am out here.
My beauty, you are sleeping on your pillows,
While I am out here sighing.
I sigh and sigh until I die,
Rise, my beauty, and let me in.
I sigh and sigh until I die,
Rise, my beauty, and let me in.
My beauty, the star of my heart, you are sleeping,
While I am out here, while I am out here.
My beauty, the star of my heart, you are sleeping,
While I am out here, burning with love.
I burn with love until I die,
Rise, my beauty, and let me in.
I burn with love until I die,
Rise, my beauty, and let me in.
My beauty, you are sleeping behind these walls,
While I am out here, while I am out here.
My beauty, you are sleeping behind these walls,
While I am out here, while I am out here.
And here I stand, without fear,
Rise, my beauty, and let me in.
Without fear, and until I die—
Rise, my beauty, and let me in.

20. Kali Nifta (Good Night)
This is Griko, a Greek variety traditionally spoken in Grecìa Salentina in southern Apulia.

How sweet this night is, and how beautiful!
But I cannot sleep, as I’m thinking of you.
Here beneath your window, my love,
I reveal to you the sorrow of my heart.
I am always thinking of you,
For it is you I love, my soul.
Wherever I go, wherever I wander or stay,
I always carry you in my heart.
Good night! I leave you and go away.
Sleep, while I depart in sorrow.
Yet wherever I go, wherever I wander or stay,
I always carry you in my heart.

 20. Lule Lule (Flower, Flower)
This is Arbëresh, the traditional Italo-Albanian language of Albanian communities in southern Italy.

Where has the time gone,
The good old time
When you and I, my darling,
Loved each other so dearly?
Oh, flower, flower,
Oh, bunches of flowers!
I have gone mad about you,
I have gone mad about you,
Gone mad, gone mad,
Gone mad, it is true.
Where has the time gone,
When you kept me in your thoughts,
And would die of longing
Whenever you could not see me?
Oh, flower, flower,
Oh, bunches of flowers!
I have gone mad about you,
I have gone mad about you,
Gone mad, gone mad,
Gone mad, it is true.