Ensemble Lucidarium
After lots of dance class stuff (ow, ow ow ow) I went to see a concert of Renaissance-era Italian Jewish music that was just utterly fabulous. I will spare you absurdist nattering about the charisma of the male vocalist and will instead subject you merely to the following translation of one of the pieces performed:
You sleep whilst I wake, wasting my steps. As I twist and turn about your walls. You sleep, while my pain could wake the stones: The moon darkens with pity. You sleep, but not these tired eyes, To whom sleep never comes: Because all flees from my thoughts. Save your image, which destroys me.
You sleep, whilst I keep guard against the winds and the storm. Upon the marbled stone of your doorstep. You sleep, I wake, and with bitter tone, Call upon pity, which for me means death. You sleep whilst I wake in great tornment, Finding no-one to comfort my suffering. You sleep, well rested and without care, While my eyes refuse to close.