Veggo la selva e il monte
ove sola d’amor spesso favella
col ruscello e col fonte
Irene pastorella;
e dico: oh potess’io
cangiarmi in fonte e transformarmi in rio,
per scoprir le mie pene
nello specchio dell’onde ai rai d’Irene.

Pietro Metastasio (1698-1782)

I see the forest and the mountain
where Irene, the shepherdess, often speaks of love,
all alone, to the spring
and to the stream;
and I say: Ah, if only
I could turn into a spring and transform into a river,
so that I, from inside the mirror of its waves,
may show my sorrows to the eyes of Irene.

English: Flavio Ferri-Benedetti © 2011

Le direi, mormorando tra’ sassi:
“Bella Irene, il ruscello che passi
senz’amarti al suo fiume non va.”

Le direi: “Il bel fonte che splende,
pastorella, al tuo volto s’accende,
ed amante d’Irene si fa.”

Pietro Metastasio (1698-1782)

I would tell her, murmuring among the rocks:
‘Fair Irene, the stream that you are now passing by
will not join the river without loving you.’

And I would tell her: ‘The river’s spring
that now is shining, O shepherdess, is ignited by your face,
and falls in love with you, Irene.’

English: Flavio Ferri-Benedetti © 2011

Poscia, quando il pastor guida la greggia
a dissetarsi al fonte o al rio fugace,
“Guarda—direi—di non turbar quest’onde
o del fonte che tace,
o del ruscel’ che freme entro le sponde,
ché l’uno e l’altro del gentil sembiante
d’Irene pastorella è fatto amante.”

Pietro Metastasio (1698-1782)

Then, when the shepherd led his flock to drink at the spring,
or at the fleeting river, I would tell him:
‘Beware not to trouble the waters
of the silent spring,
of the stream that roars among its banks—
for both are in love with the gentle face
of Irene, the shepherdess.’

English: Flavio Ferri-Benedetti © 2011

Ma la selva, il monte intanto
van col bel dell’Idol mio
lusingando le mie pene.

Io fo crescer col mio pianto
l’acque al fonte, l’onde al rio,
sospirando per Irene.

Pietro Metastasio (1698-1782)

But both the forest and the mountain, meanwhile,
flatter my sorrows with the beauty
of my beloved shepherdess.

With my tears, I keep increasing
the waters of the spring and the waves of the river,
sighing for Irene.

English: Flavio Ferri-Benedetti © 2011