Nearly ninety years ago in Frankfurt—June 8, 1937—a cantata that would become one of the most beloved and enduring of the choral masterworks of all time was seen and heard for the first time: Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana: Cantiones profanæ cantoribus et choris cantandæ comitantibus instrumentis atque imaginibus magicis (“Songs of Beuern: Secular songs for singers and choruses to be sung together with instruments and magic images”). That mouthful of a title reveals several things about Carmina’s origins and its composer’s intent. “Beuern” refers to the Benedictine monastery in Bavaria where, in 1803, a collection of thirteenth-century songs and poems was uncovered. Carl Orff discovered a version of that collection in a second-hand bookstore, within a volume bearing the tawdry title Wine, Women, and Song. He was instantly entranced:

I obtained the book on Maundy Thursday 1934, a memorable day for me. Right when I opened it, on the very first page, I found the long-famous illustration of “Fortune with the Wheel,” and under it the lines: “O Fortuna velut Luna statu variabilis.” The picture and the words took hold of me. Although I was, in the beginning, only acquainted with the broad outlines of the contents of the poetry collection, a new work, a stage work with choruses for singing and dancing, simply following the pictures and text, sprang to life immediately in my mind. That very day I had sketched the first chorus. After a sleepless night during which I nearly lost myself in the voluminous poetry collection, a second chorus, “Fortune plango vulnera,” was finished, and on Easter morning, a third, “Ecce gratum,” was put on paper.

With the help of a Latin scholar named Michael Hoffman, Orff chose twenty-four poems from the collection and grouped them into three scenes: Spring, In the Tavern, and The Court of Love. The authors of these poems were likely itinerant scholars and defrocked priests—learned, literary men who, for whatever reason, fell out with the academic and religious institutions of medieval Europe and made a living entertaining hosts (and each other) with their too-clever words and catchy rhymes. Their poems herald the beauty and warmth of spring—surely welcome to men without a home to call their own. They toast the delights of the tavern, mocking clergymen, imagining the lament of a roasting swan, while subtly skewering the simony and greed of the ever-powerful church they had forsaken. They revel in the intrigue of courtly love—the longing for a chaste and typically unattainable lady—that animated the noble courts that provided the men a few nights’ stay. Taken as a whole, these poems reflect how Fortune’s whims hold sway over life’s delights and challenges.

Orff set out to vivify the texts through both song and “magic images.” At the school of dance and gymnastics that he founded with Dorothee Günther, dancers were expected to improvise music for their movement, and instrumentalists created movements for their melodies. In Orff’s art, as in some African cultures where there aren’t separate words for “music” and “dance,” the two were essentially interchangeable. Princeton Pro Musica has a history of performing Carmina Burana as the multi-disciplinary spectacle its composer conceived. I’m thrilled to have had the opportunity to work with Mark Roxey and the Roxey ballet, whose musical choreography has transformed my thinking about the relationship between music and movement, and has revealed new possibilities for storytelling with Carmina.

Orff’s choice of medieval texts complemented his innate inclination toward older music. Turning away from the iconoclasm of Weimar Germany and the intellectualism of composers like Schoenberg, Orff sought a more elemental, primal music inspired by nature and earlier musical models. At the Günther School, students played large, simplified percussion instruments, which allowed them to use their bodies to develop complex rhythmic ideas from simple melodic materials. For his own performances as conductor of the Munich Bach Society and other organizations, Orff arranged the music of Monteverdi and created staged versions of works by Schütz and Bach. He was a student of medieval music, too: The contours of medieval plainchant inform the choral music in Carmina’s third movement (“Varies leta facies”) and the baritone’s first utterance (“Omnia sol temperat”) in the fourth. The jaunty mixed meter of the sixth movement, “Tanz,” (“Dance”) was inspired by medieval Bavarian dance.

Unsurprisingly, Orff’s music begs for movement. Powered by rank upon rank of soldiering beats, marching along in insistent ostinatos, rhythm vanquishes melody to proclaim itself the primary musical parameter. A near-constant barrage of sharp accents and snappy staccatos adds crispness and angularity to the musical surface. Unlike much of Princeton Pro Musica’s repertoire, Carmina offers almost no harmonic narrative; the movements remain steadfastly in one key, never daring to modulate to other tonal realms. Indeed, the choral score for Carmina looks like few others in the literature. It’s as though Orff deliberately compensated for the conspicuous lack of flats and sharps by adorning nearly every note with a diacritic crown of articulation. The choir, of course, isn’t the only component of Carmina responsible for the rhythm and accents. The score calls for no fewer than three glockenspiels, five timpani, various drums, chimes, and some of the most sparkling and clacking instruments of the percussion section: triangle, sleigh bells, and castanets.

Carl Orff’s masterpiece produces a powerful effect in the concert hall. Sometimes at a classical performance we bear witness to a soloist’s self-reflective reverie with her instrument, deriving pleasure from our moment of access to that intimate, interior world. At other times we sit in awe as a composer’s creation raises universal, profound questions or conveys majesty. But Carmina elicits an emotional response of a more primordial type. Its clamor and pulse sweep us into communal ecstasy.

It’s no wonder, then, that few choral pieces have been used so much outside the concert hall context. Carmina’s topics—springtime sunshine, tipsy conviviality, stirring loins—are innocent enough. But its effects—unification through rhythm, a sense of triumphalism—harness powerful potential. The piece was written in a time when odious nationalist regimes were gaining power in Europe. Though Orff claimed that the Nazis proscribed Carmina due to its Latin text, communal “European” sensibility, and “jazzy atmosphere,” some Nazis embraced the work and at least one appreciated the rhythms’ evocation of “the stamping columns of the Third Reich.” Carmina’s first performance at Milan’s La Scala was seen as a showpiece for fascist values. In more recent times, Carmina Burana has been co-opted in the commercial realm. Countless solo artists and bands, from Michael Jackson to Busta Rhymes, have sampled Orff’s music. Film and television soundtracks throb with its rhythms. Ad campaigns use it to sell everything from SUVs to beer. Sports franchises blast “O Fortuna” when their players take the field or court. They lean on these familiar sounds to signal that their protagonists face an epic battle with fate.

Indeed, despite its familiarity, the famous “O Fortuna” is always arresting. This is never more the case when it returns at the end of the work. Orff saves his richest, most exulted music for the penultimate movement. Having followed the courtship and seduction gradually unfolding between baritone and soprano, and at long last riding the rush of consummation after the soprano’s orgasmic ascent to high D, the full-throated chorus, three clanging glockenspiels, timpani, and pianos erupt in a paean to “the most beautiful one.” Their hymn-like “Aves” extol beautiful women of legend and Venus herself. But just as they reach this apex, pounded low octaves from the pianos and thundering blows from the timpani turn Fortune’s wheel once again. Soon thereafter, the last line of the famous chorus bids: “since Fate strikes down the strong man, everyone weep with me!”

By the time this broad invitation is reprised, we have reeled and rocked through the life cycle of the twenty-five movements of Orff’s cantata. We have been powerfully reminded, through word, sound, and movement, that as Fortune’s wheel inexorably spins, nothing is certain. Some aspects of modern life are felt just as acutely as they were in the Middle Ages. Who hasn’t sometimes felt that the world is spinning too fast, turning everything topsy-turvy, with the erstwhile “loser” suddenly exalted in triumph while the worthy are knocked flat? Yet each day we wake up and roll the dice once more. Now, as then, there are communities forced to wander and seek refuge from the caprices of cruel Fortune. Triumph and tragedy continue their uneasy coexistence. In this particular moment, Orff’s brilliant Carmina Burana enables more than one hundred musicians, a dozen dancers, and hundreds of audience members to celebrate the triumphs—and bemoan the tribulations—of life and love. Carmina captures our alternate joys and struggles, and suggests that for all our sakes we try to steady Fortune’s hand when her wheel seems about to spin out of control.

Program

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Carmina Burana
Carl Orff (1895-1982)

Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi (Fortune, Empress of the World)
O Fortuna (O Fortune)
Fortune plango vulnera (I mourn the blows of Fortune)

I. Primo vere (In Spring)
Veris leta facies (The happy face of Spring)
Omnia Sol temperat (All things are tempered by the Sun)
Ecce gratum (Behold the welcome)

Uf dem anger (In the Meadow)
Tanz (Dance)
Floret silva nobilis (The noble forest is in bloom)
Chramer, gip die varwe mir (Monger, give me coloured paint)
Reie (Round dance)
Swaz hie gat umbe (Those who dance)
Chume, chum, geselle min (Come, come, my beloved)
Swaz hie gat umbe, reprise
Were diu werlt alle min (If the world were all mine)

II. In Taberna (In the Tavern)
Estuans interius (Burning inwardly)
Olim lacus colueram (Once I had dwelt on lakes)
Ego sum abbas (I am the abbot [of Cockaigne])
In taberna quando sumus (When we are in the tavern)

III. Cour d'amours (Court of Love)
Amor volat undique (Love flies everywhere)
Dies, nox et omnia (Day, night, and everything)
Stetit puella (A girl stood)
Circa mea pectora (In my heart)
Veni, veni, venias (Come, come, please come)
In trutina (On the balance)
Tempus est iocundum (It is the time of joy)
Dulcissime (Sweetest of men)

Blanziflor et Helena (Blancheflour and Helen)
Ave formosissima (Hail, fairest of women)

Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi (Fortune, Empress of the World)
O Fortuna, reprise

Soloists

Hannah Penzner, soprano, is a Los Angeles native now based in New York City. She recently earned her Master’s degree in Vocal Performance from the Frost School of Music at the University of Miami. This past summer, she performed in the chorus for Haydn's Creation and a curated choral concert with conductor Joe Miller at the Spoleto Festival USA in Charleston, South Carolina.

During her time at Frost, Hannah portrayed Mrs. Fiorentino in Kurt Weill's Street Scene and originated the role of Mamah Borthwick in Shawn Crouch’s Stained Glass. She also debuted the famous “Dulcissime” solo in Carmina Burana, conducted by Amanda Quist.

Hannah has appeared as a soloist in Mendelssohn’s Elijah on two occasions—first with the Arizona Philharmonic and later with the Bob Cole Symphony Orchestra during her undergraduate years. Most recently, she toured with Seraphic Fire, performing in their annual Christmas concerts across Florida and Grafton, Vermont. Hannah can regularly be heard singing with the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church choir in New York City.

Tenor Alex Guerrero has been praised by The New York Times for his “apt comic timing” in André Gretry’s Zémire et Azor with American Classical Orchestra, as well as his “solid” performance in Handel’s The Ways of Zion Do Mourn led by William Christie at Carnegie’s Zankel Hall. Mr. Guerrero was also noted for his performance this month as Labano in Antonio Bencini’s Gesù Nato, also with ACO, by New York Classical Review for his “excellent, beautiful sounds,” by Classical Music Network for his “stentorian tenor when necessary,” and by Woman Around Town for his “best grasp on [Italian] diction,” as well as his “sunny and suave voice . . . ideal . . . for Rossini and Bellini.” Other concert credits include several J.S. Bach cantatas, Orff’s Carmina Burana with Monmouth Civic Chorus conducted by Ryan Brandau, the role of Edwig in Vincent d’Indy’s opera Fervaal in concert with American Symphony Orchestra at New York’s Lincoln Center, and the American premiere of Valery Gavrilin’s Russian cantata Chimes with Cantori New York led by Mark Shapiro at National Sawdust. He was also featured on the Tania León Grammy-nominated album Inura for Voice, Strings and Percussion.

As a choral artist, Mr. Guerrero has performed and recorded with leading ensembles that include Trinity Wall Street Choir, St. Thomas Church Fifth Avenue Choir, Yale Choral Artists, and Grammy Award-winning True Concord. As a composer, his music has been performed by The New York Virtuoso Singers; the choirs at Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and Park Avenue Synagogue; the former Pro Arte Chamber Singers and Charis Chamber Voices; and just this month, Amor Artis under Ryan Brandau’s outstanding leadership delivered a superb premiere of his setting of “Yehi Has’dekha.”

Mr. Guerrero has also been performing with the Extra Chorus at The Metropolitan Opera since 2017, and debuted with the Core Supplementary Chorus at Lyric Opera of Chicago during the 2019–2020 season. Additionally, he has served on the adjunct music faculty at Borough of Manhattan Community College, CUNY, and is a Doctor of Musical Arts candidate at SUNY’s Stony Brook University. He is also the author of the Classical Singer Magazine article titled “Admitting BIPOC Composers into the Canon.”

Baritone Dominic Inferrera has enjoyed acclaim in giving voice to opera, oratorio, musical theater, pop, jazz, and contemporary music. As The Son in Hugo Weisgall's Six Characters in Search of an Author with Opera Festival of New Jersey, The New York Times proclaimed him a “standout”. His performance of Young (Old) Button in John Eaton's operatic adaptation of "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” at Symphony Space in NYC was hailed by the New York Times as "dynamic". Other roles include The Celebrant in Bernstein’s Mass with the Cornell University Theatre, Escamillo (Carmen) and Silvio and Marco (Pagliacci/Gianni Schicchi) with OperaDelaware, Masetto (Don Giovanni) with Toledo Opera and Annapolis Opera, Lescaut (Manon Lescaut) at Opera Memphis, Guglielmo (Così fan Tutte) with Capital City Opera, Moralès (Carmen), Wagner (Faust), Marquis (Traviata), and Maggiordomo (Vanessa) with Opera Festival of New Jersey, Escamillo with Union Avenue Opera, The Swineherd in John
Harbison's A Full Moon in March with Encompass Opera Theater, Aeneas (Dido and Aeneas) with the Greenwich Village Singers, and Castro (Fanciulla) with New York City Opera.

Mr. Inferrera’s concert repertoire includes Orff’s Carmina Burana, Finzi’s In Terra Pax, Vaughan
Williams’ Fantasy on Christmas Carols, Fauré Requiem, Duruflé Requiem, Brahms’ Requiem,
and Handel’s Messiah with Princeton Pro Musica, Monmouth Civic Chorus, Burlington
Symphony (VT), Choral Society of the Hamptons, Greenwich Village Singers, and American
Classical Orchestra, and Pontius Pilate in Brooklyn Academy of Music’s critically acclaimed St.
Matthew Passion. Dominic has performed with the Meredith Monk Ensemble, Mark Morris
Dance Group, and pops appearances with Indianapolis Symphony, Cincinatti Pops, Naples
Philharmonic, Ocean City Pops, Colorado Symphony, New York City Opera, and Seattle
Symphony. Recordings include the acclaimed Orpheus and Other Works by composer Louis
Karchin, Arnold Rosner’s Songs of Lightness and Angels, and Eaton’s “The Curious Case of
Benjamin Button” on Albany Records.

Texts

1. O FORTUNA

O Fortuna,
velut Luna
statu variabilis,
semper crescis
aut decrescis;
vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat
et tunc curat
ludo mentis aciem;
egestatem,
potestatem,
dissolvit ut glaciem.

Sors immanis
et inanis,
rota tu volubilis,
status malus,
vana salus
semper dissolubilis;
obumbrata
et velata
mihi quoque niteris;
nunc per ludum
dorsum nudum
fero tui sceleris.

Sors salutis
et virtutis
mihi nunc contraria;
est affectus
et defectus
semper in angaria.
hac in hora
sine mora
cordae pulsum tangite!
quod per sortem
sternit fortem,
mecum omnes plangite!

O Fortune, like the moon of ever changing state, you are always waxing or waning; hateful life now is brutal, now pampers our feelings with its game; poverty, power, it melts them like ice.

Fate, savage and empty, you are a turning wheel, your position is uncertain, your favour is idle and always likely to disappear; covered in shadows and veiled you bear upon me too; now my back is naked through the sport of your wickedness.

The chance of prosperity and of virtue is not now mine; whether willing or not, a man is always liable for Fortune's service. At this hour without delay touch the strings! Because through luck she lays low the brave, all join with me in lamentation!

2. FORTUNAE PLANGO VULNERA

Fortunae plango vulnera
stillantibus ocellis,
quod sua mihi munera
subtrahit rebellis.
verum est, quod legitur
fronte capillata,
sed plerumque sequitur
Occasio calvata.

In Fortunae solio
sederam elatus,
prosperitatis vario
flore coronatus;
quicquid enim florui
felix et beatus
nunc a summo corrui
gloria privatus.

Fortunae rota volvitur;
descendo minoratus;
alter in altum tollitur;
nimis exaltatus
rex sedet in vertice
caveat ruinam!
nam sub axe legimus
Hecubam reginam.

I mourn the blows of Fortune with flowing eyes, because her gifts she has treacherously taken back from me. Opportunity is rightly described as having hair on her forehead, but there usually follows the bald patch at the back.

On the throne of Fortune I had sat elated, crowned with the gay flower of prosperity; however much I flourished, happy and blessed, now I have fallen from the pinnacle, deprived of my glory.

The wheel of Fortune turns; I sink, debased; another is raised up; lifted too high, a king sits on the topólet him beware of ruin! Under the axle we read, Queen Hecuba.

3. VERIS LAETA FACIES

Veris laeta facies
mundo propinquatur.
Hiemalis acies
victa iam fugatur.
in vestitu vario Flora principatur,
nemorum dulcisono
quae cantu celebratur.

Florae fusus gremio
Phoebus novo more
risum dat, hoc vario
iam stipatae flore.
Zephyrus nectareo
spirans it odore.
certatim pro bravio
curramus in amore.

Cytharizat cantico
dulcis Philomena.
flore rident vario
prata iam serena.
salit coetus avium
silvae per amoena.
chorus promit virginum
iam gaudia millena.

The happy face of Spring comes to the world. The army of Winter, conquered, is now put to flight. In gay clothes Flora rules, and she is praised by the sweet sound of the woods.

Stretched out in the lap of Flora Phoebus in his new way laughs - she is now covered with these gay flowers. Zephyrus goes blowing the scent of nectar. In competition for the prize let us run in the race of love.

Sweet Philomela accompanies her song with the lyre. The fields, now bright, smile with gay flowers. A flock of birds hop through the pleasant places of the wood. A dancing band of girls now brings a thousand joys.

4. OMNIA SOL TEMPERATA

Omnia Sol temperat
purus et subtilis;
novo mundo reserat
facies Aprilis,
ad amorem properat
animus herilis,
et iocundis imperat
deus puerilis.

Rerum tanta novitas
in sollemni Vere
et Veris auctoritas
iubet nos gaudere;
vias praebet solitas;
et in tuo Vere
fides est et probitas
tuum retinere.

Ama me fideliter!
fidem meam nota;
de corde totaliter
et ex mente tota
sum praesentialiter
absens in remota.
Quisquis amat taliter,
volvitur in rota.

The sun, pure and gentle, calms all things; the face of April opens to the new world; the mind of a young man hastens to love, and over men of charm rules the boy god.

So great a renewal of the world in festive Spring and the authority of Spring order us to rejoice; it shows its familiar ways; and in the Spring of your life sincerity and honesty require that you keep him who is yours.

Love me faithfully! Mark my loyalty; completely, in my heart and in my whole mind I am with you though absent in a far place. Whoever loves in this way is turned on the wheel of torture.

5. ECCE GRATUM

Ecce gratum
et optatum
Ver reducit gaudia.
purpuratum
floret pratum.
Sol serenat omnia.
iamiam cedant tristia!
Aestas redit,
nunc recedit
Hiemis saevitia.

Iam liquescit
et decrescit
grando, nix et cetera.
Bruma fugit,
et iam sugit
Ver Aestatis ubera.
illi mens est misera,
qui nec vivit,
nec lascivit
sub Aestatis dextera.

Gloriantur
et laetantur
in melle dulcedinis
qui conantur,
ut utantur
praemio Cupidinis.
simus iussu Cypridis
gloriantes et
laetantes
pares esse Paridis.

Behold, the welcome and desirable Spring brings back joys. The brightly coloured meadow is in flower. The sun brightens everything. Now let sorrows depart! Summer returns, now the rage of Winter retires.

Now hail, snow and the rest turn to water and flow away. Winter flees and already Spring sucks at the breasts of Summer. He bears an unhappy heart who neither lives nor plays under Summer's right hand.

They who strive to enjoy the reward of Cupid rejoice and take pleasure in honey sweetness. Let us be at the command of the Cyprian (Venus), glorying and rejoicing to be the equals of Paris.

7. FLORET SILVA NOBILIS

Floret silva nobilis
floribus et foliis.
ubi est antiquus meus amicus?
hinc equitavit.
eia, quis me amabit?

Floret silva undique.
Nach mime gesellen ist mir we.
Gruonet der walt allenthalben,
wa ist min geselle also lange?
Der ist geriten hinnen.
Owi, wer sol mich minnen?

The noble forest is in bloom with flowers and leaves. Where is my old companion? He has ridden away. Alas, who will love me?

The forest is in bloom on all sides. I grieve for my companion.

The forest is green on all sides. Why is my companion so long? He has ridden away. Alas, who will love me?

8. CHRAMER, GIP DIE VARWE MIR

Chramer, gip die varwe mir
die min wengel roete,
damit ich die jungen man
an ir dank der minnenliebe noete.
Seht mich an, jungen man!
Lat mich iu gevallen!

Minnet, tugentliche man,
minnechliche frouwen!
Minne tuot iu hoch gemuot
unde lat iuch in hohen eren schouwen.
Seht mich an, jungen man!
Lat mich iu gevallen!

Wol die, werlt, das du bist
also freudenriche!
Ich wil dir sin undertan
durch din liebe immer sicherliche.
Seht mich an, jungen man!
Lat mich iu gevallen!

Merchant, give me the colour to redden my cheeks so that I may make young men love me whether they wish it or not. Look at me young men! Let me please you!

Give your love, virtuous men, to lovely women! Love gives you high spirits and lets you shine in high honour. Look at me young men! Let me please you!

O World, I wish you well as you are so rich in pleasures. I will surely always be your servant on account of your bounty. Look at me young men! Let me please you!

9. SWAZ HIE GAT UMBE

Swaz hie gat umbe,
daz sint allez megede,
die wellent an man
alle disen sumer gan.

Chume, chum, geselle min,
ih enbite harte din,
ih enbite harte din,
chume, chum, geselle min.

Suozer rosenvarwer munt,
chum unde mache mich gesunt,
chum unde mache mich gesunt,
suozer rosenvarwer munt.

Those who dance around here are all girls who wish to spend all this summer without men.

Come, come, my beloved, I am awaiting you with desire, I am awaiting you with desire, come, come, my beloved.

Sweet mouth, the colour of roses, come and make me well, come and make me well, sweet mouth, the colour of roses.

10. WERE DIU WERLT ALLE MIN

Were diu werlt alle min
von dem mere unze an den Rin,
des wolt ih mih darben
daz diu chunegin von Engellant
lege an minen armen.

If the world were all mine from the sea up to the Rhine, this I would willingly forego to have the queen of England lie in my arms.

11. AESTUANS INTERIUS

Aestuans interius
ira vehementi
in amaritudine
loquor meae menti;
factus de materia,
cinis elementi,
similis sum folio,
de quo ludunt venti.

Cum sit enim proprium
viro sapienti
supra petram ponere
sedem fundamenti,
stultus ego comparor
fluvio labenti
sub eodem tramite
numquam permanenti.

Feror ego veluti
sine nauta navis,
ut per vias aeris
vaga fertur avis;
non me tenent vincula,
non me tenet clavis;
quaero mihi similes,
et adiungor pravis.

Mihi cordis gravitas
res videtur gravis;
iocus est amabilis
dulciorque favis;
quicquid Venus imperat,
labor est suavis,
quae numquam in cordibus
habitat ignavis.

Via lata gradior
more iuventutis,
implicor et vitiis
immemor virtutis,
voluptatis avidus
magis quam salutis,
mortuus in anima
curam gero cutis.

Burning inwardly with strong anger, in my bitterness I speak to my soul; created out of matter, ashes of the earth, I am like a leaf with which the winds play.

Whereas it is proper for a wise man to place his foundations on rock, I, in my folly, am like a flowing river, never staying on the same course.

I am borne along like a ship without a sailor, just as a wandering bird is carried along paths of air; chains do not keep me nor does a key; I seek men like myself, and I am joined with rogues.

For me a serious heart is too serious a matter; a joke is pleasant and sweeter than honeycombs; whatever Venus orders is pleasant toil; she never dwells in faint hearts.

I go on the broad way after the manner of youth; and I entangle myself in vice, forgetful of virtue; greedy for pleasure more than for salvation, I, dead in my soul, attend to the needs of my flesh.

12. OLIM LACUS COLUERAM

Olim lacus colueram,
olim pulcher exstiteram,
dum cygnus ego fueram.
Miser, miser!
modo niger
et ustus fortiter!

Girat, regirat garcifer;
me rogus urit fortiter;
propinat me nunc dapifer.
Miser, miser!
modo niger
et ustus fortiter!

Nunc in scutella iaceo,
et volitare nequeo;
dentes frendentes video.
Miser, miser!
modo niger
et ustus fortiter!

Once I had dwelt on lakes, once I had been beautiful, when I was a swan. Poor wretch! Now black and well roasted!

The cook turns me back and forth; I am roasted to a turn on my pyre; now the waiter serves me. Poor wretch! Now black and well roasted!

Now I lie on the dish, and I cannot fly; I see the gnashing teeth. Poor wretch! Now black and well roasted!

13. EGO SUM ABBAS

Ego sum abbas Cucaniensis
et consilium meum est cum bibulis,
et in secta Decii voluntas mea est,
et qui mane me quaesierit in taberna
post vesperam nudus egredietur,
et sic denudatus veste clamabit:
Wafna, wafna! quid fecisti, Sors turpissima?
nostrae vitae gaudia
abstulisti omnia!

I am the Abbot of Cockaigne and my counsel is with soaks, and my pleasure is in the order of gamblers and whoever seeks me early in the tavern will leave naked after vespers, and stripped of his clothing he will cry:

Wafna, wafna! What have you done, Luck most foul! You have taken away all the joys of our life!

14. IN TABERNA QUANDO SUMUS

In taberna quando sumus,
non curamus quid sit humus,
sed ad ludum properamus,
cui semper insudamus.
quid agatur in taberna
ubi nummus est pincerna,
hoc est opus ut quaeratur;
si quid loquar, audiatur.

Quidam ludunt,
quidam bibunt,
quidam indiscrete vivunt.
sed in ludo qui morantur,
ex his quidam denudantur,
quidam ibi vestiuntur,
quidam saccis induuntur;
ibi nullus timet mortem,
sed pro Baccho mittunt sortem.

Primo pro nummata vini;
ex hac bibunt libertini;
semel bibunt pro captivis,
post haec bibunt ter pro vivis,
quater pro Christianis cunctis,
quinquies pro fidelibus defunctis,
sexies pro sororibus vanis,
septies pro militibus silvanis.
octies pro fratribus perversis,
nonies pro monachis dispersis,
decies pro navigantibus,
undecies pro discordantibus,
duodecies pro paenitentibus,
tredecies pro iter agentibus.

Tam pro papa quam pro rege
bibunt omnes sine lege.
Bibit hera, bibit herus,
bibit miles, bibit clerus,
bibit ille, bibit illa,
bibit servus cum ancilla,
bibit velox, bibit piger,
bibit albus, bibit niger,
bibit constans, bibit vagus,
bibit rudis, bibit magus,
Bibit pauper et aegrotus,
bibit exul et ignotus,
bibit puer, bibit canus,
bibit praesul et decanus,
bibit soror, bibit frater,
bibit anus, bibit mater,
bibit ista, bibit ille,
bibunt centum, bibunt mille.

Parum sescentae nummatae
durant cum immoderate
bibunt omnes sine meta,
quamvis bibant mente laeta;
sic nos rodunt omnes gentes,
et sic erimus egentes.
qui nos rodunt confundantur
et cum iustis non scribantur.

When we are in the tavern, we do not care about what earth is (i.e. what we are made of), we set about gambling and over that we always sweat. We must investigate what happens in the tavern where money is the butler; pay attention to what I say.

Some gamble, some drink, some live without discretion. From those who spend their time in gambling, some are stripped bare, some win clothes, some are dressed in sacks; there no-one fears death, but for the wine they throw dice.

First, for the payment of the wine (i.e. who pays for the wine). Then the boozers start to drink; they drink once to those in prison, after that, three times for the living, four times for all Christendom, five times for the faithful departed, six times for sisters of loose virtue, seven times for soldiers of the forest, eight times for brothers in error, nine times for scattered monks, ten times for those who sail, eleven times for men quarrelling, twelve times for those doing penance, thirteen times for those on journeys.

For pope and king alike all drink without restraint.

The mistress drinks, so does the master, the soldier drinks, so does the cleric, that man drinks, that woman drinks, the servant drinks with the maid, the fast man drinks, so does the slow, the white man drinks, so does the black, the stay-at-home drinks, so does the wanderer, the fool drinks, so does the scholar.

The poor drink, and the sick, the exile and the unknown, the boy, the greybeard, the bishop, the deacon, sister, brother, old woman, mother, that woman, this man, they drink by the hundred, by the thousand.

Large sums of money last too short a time when everybody drinks without moderation and limit, even though they drink with a happy heart; in this everyone sponges on us and it will make us poor.

Damnation to those who sponge on us! Put not their names in the book of Just.

15. AMOR VOLAT UNDIQUE

Amor volat undique,
captus est libidine.
iuvenes, iuvenculae,
coniunguntur merito.
siqua sine socio,
caret omni gaudio;
tenet noctis infima
sub intimo
cordis in custodia; fit res amarissima.

Love flies everywhere, and is seized with passion. Young men and women come together, as is right. If a girl has no boyfriend, she is quite without joy; she harbours the depths of night shut up in her inmost heart. It is pure bitterness.

16. DIES, NOX, ET OMNIA

Dies, nox, et omnia
mihi sunt contraria;
virginum colloquia
me fay planszer,
oy suvenz suspirer,
plu me fay temer.

O sodales, ludite,
vos qui scitis dicite,
mihi maesto parcite,
grand ey dolur,
attamen consulite
per voster honur.

Tua pulchra facies,
me fay planszer milies,
pectus habens glacies,
a ramender ...
statim vivus
fierem per un baser.

Day, night, everything is hostile to me; the talk of maidens makes me weep, alas! makes me sigh often, makes me more afraid.

O friends, make merry, speak to me, you who know, have mercy on me in my misery; my pain is great, but advise me for your honour's sake.

Your fair face makes me weep a thousand times, but your heart is ice; to restore me ...immediately would I return to life with one kiss.

17. STETIT PUELLA

Stetit puella
rufa tunica;
si quis eam tetigit,
tunica crepuit.
eia!

stetit puella,
tamquam rosula;
facie splenduit,
os eius floruit.
eia!

A girl stood in a red dress; if anyone touched it, the dress rustled. Eia!

A girl stood like a little rose; her face shone and her mouth bloomed, Eia!

18. CIRCA MEA PECTORA

Circa mea pectora
multa sunt suspiria
de tua pulchritudine,
quae me laedunt misere.
Manda liet, manda liet,
min geselle
chumet niet.

Tui lucent oculi
sicut solis radii,
sicut splendor fulguris
lucem donat tenebris.
Manda liet, manda liet,
min geselle
chumet niet.

Vellet Deus,
vellent dii,
quod mente proposui,
ut eius virginea
reserassem vincula.
Manda liet,
manda liet,
min geselle
chumet niet.

In my heart there are many sighs for your beauty which torture me miserably.

Send a message, send a message, my beloved does not come.

Your eyes shine like the rays of the sun, like a flash of lightning which gives light to darkness.

Send a message, send a message, my beloved does not come.

May God grant, may the gods grant, what I have set myself to do, and that is, to unlock the bonds of her virginity.

Send a message, send a message, my beloved does not come.

20. VENI, VENI, VENIAS

Veni, veni, venias,
ne me mori facias,
hyrca, hyrce, nazara;
trilirivos.

Pulchra tibi facies,
oculorum acies,
capillorum series;
o quam clara species!

Rosa rubicundior,
Lilio candidior,
omnibus formosior;
semper in te glorior!

Come, come, please come, don't make me die, hyrca, hyrce, nazara, trilirivos.

Beautiful is your face, the glance of your eyes, the tresses of your hair; oh how beautiful is your appearance!

You are redder than the rose, brighter than the lily, more beautiful than all; you are my constant pride!

21. IN TRUTINA

In trutina mentis dubia
fluctuant contraria
lascivus amor et pudicitia.
Sed eligo quod video,
collum iugo praebeo;
ad iugum tamen suave transeo.

In my mind's wavering balance wanton love and chastity sway in opposite scales. But I choose what I see, I offer my neck to the yoke; to a yoke so sweet I cross.