Che fai, Dori, che pensi? (Orazio Vecchi)

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  • (Posted 2017-05-08)   CPDL #44427:         
Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2017-05-08).   Score information: A4, 2 pages, 46 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: Reformatting of #1305, with corrections. The repeat patterns from #19151 have been adopted. Musica ficta are editorial. MusicXML source file is in compressed .mxl format.
  • CPDL #19151:  Icon_pdf_globe.gif Icon_pdf_globe.gif (Tablature with transcription)   Icon_snd_globe.gif Icon_zip_globe.gif (MusiXTex)
Editor: Christian Mondrup (submitted 2009-04-02).   Score information: Letter, 3 pages, 55 kB   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes: With lute tablature plus keyboard transcription of the tablature. MusiXTex file is zipped.
  • CPDL #01305:        (Finale 2000)
Editor: Claudio Macchi (submitted 2000-08-29).   Score information: Letter, 2 pages, 36 kB   Copyright: CPDL
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General Information

Title: Che fai, Dori, che pensi?
Composer: Orazio Vecchi

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB
Genre: SecularMadrigal

Language: Italian
Instruments: A cappella

Published: Selva di Varia Ricreatione 1590

Description:

External websites:

  • Facsimiles published by The Royal Library, Copenhagen

Original text and translations

Italian.png Italian text

Che fai, Dori, che pensi?
Avrò mai pace,
Pace e letizia avrai.
Deh! Dimmi l’hora
Quando vedrai dal ciel
scender l’aurora.

Che fai, Dori, che parli?
Avrò mai tregua?
Tregua e conforto avrai.
Deh! Dimmi il punto
Quando Febo da noi
sarà disgiunto.

Fugga dunque la luce, e’l biond’Apollo
Tosto i bei raggi asconda, e vien tu sera
Vientene via volando anzi ch’io pera.

English.png English translation

What are you doing, Doris, what are you thinking?
Shall I never know peace?
You shall have peace - and joy.
Alas, when shall that be?
When you see Dawn descend from the sky.


What are you doing, Doris, what are you saying?
Shall I never have any respite?
You shall have respite - and comfort.
Alas, when shall that be?
When Phoebus
departs from us.

Then let the light be gone, and golden-haired Apollo:
hide soon the resplendent rays, and come, evening,
come, fly away before I perish.

Translation by Mick Swithinbank