Ad altri tocca in sorte
Opera details:
Opera title: | L' Incoronazione di Poppea |
Composer: | Claudio Monteverdi |
Language: | Italian |
Synopsis: | L' Incoronazione di Poppea Synopsis |
Libretto: | L' Incoronazione di Poppea Libretto |
Translation(s): | English Deutsch |
Recitative details:
Type: | recitative |
Role(s): | Ottone / Poppea |
Voice(s): | Mezzo-Soprano / Soprano |
Act: | 1.13 |
| Previous scene: | Come dolci signor come soavi |
| Next scene: | Ottone torna a te stesso |
Monteverdi - L'Incoronazione di Poppea - Ad altri tocca in sorte - Act 1
Singer(s): Lena Lootens Jennifer Larmore Guillemette LaurensMonteverdi - L'Incoronazione di Poppea - Ad altri tocca in sorte - Act 1
Libretto : Gian Francesco Busenello
Réalisation musicale René Jacobs
Poppea, Danielle Borst
Nerone, Guillemette Laurens
Ottavia, Jennifer Larmore
Ottone, Axel Köhler
Seneca, Michael Schopper
Drusilla, Lena Lootens
Nutrice, Dominique Visse
Arnalta, Christoph Homberger
Lucano, Guy de Mey
Amore, Martina Bovet
Ottone
It falls to the lot of others to drink the wine, to mine but to look at the flask. The doors are open to Nero, while Ottone remains outside. He sits at table to satiate his appetites, in bitter fasting I die of hunger.
Poppea
Who is born unfortunate has himself to blame, not others: of your wretched state i am not, nor ever was the cause; fate casts the dice, then counts the score, the outcome, whether good or bad, depends on him.
Ottone
The longed-for harvest of my hopes, of my desires, has fallen into other hands, and Love refuses that I aspire more; happy Nero tastes the sweet apples, and only tears moisten my mouth.
Poppea
Fortune gave you her balding temples, to others she gave the tresses; if others' wishes were gratified, they were more fortunate than you. Your misfortune is not my fault, bewail then only yourself and your own ill fate.
Ottone
I had hoped that the hard rock, fair Poppea, that encases your heart, would make Love kindly feel compassion for my pain, but the hard flint of that white breast is the death of my hopes and their tomb.
Poppea
I pray you, reproach me no more, bear your blows patiently in peace, cease trying to move me more, to imperial command Poppea submits; quell your ardour now, temper your rage; I leave you to ascend a throne.
Ottone
And thus ambition upon all vices reaches towards the monarchy?
Poppea
Thus my reason reproves your madman's whims.
Ottone
Is this the reward for my love?
Poppea
Modesty, indeed! No more; I belong to Nero.
Watch videos with other singers performing Ad altri tocca in sorte:
1 - Sonya Yoncheva
1 - Danielle de Niese
1 - Maite Beaumont
1 - Miah Persson
5 - Tim Mead
1 - Lena Lootens
2 - Guillemette Laurens
2 - Jennifer Larmore
1 - Daniela Dessì
1 - Magda László
2 - Elizabeth Bainbridge
2 - Frances Bible
2 - Oralia Domínguez
1 - Helen Donath
1 - Rachel Yakar
2 - Trudeliese Schmidt
5 - Francisco Araiza
5 - Fritz Peter
5 - Paul Esswood
5 - Éric Tappy
6 - Philippe Huttenlocher
Other videos of the same singers performing Ad altri tocca in sorte:
1 - Sonya Yoncheva
Libretto/Lyrics/Text/Testo:
SCENA XI
Ottone, Poppea, Arnalta in disparte.
Ottone con Poppea palesa
le sue morte speranze con lei,
e da passione amorosa la rinfaccia,
Poppea si sdegna, e sprezzandolo
parte dicendo esser soggetta a Nerone.
RITORNELLO
OTTONE
Ad altri tocca in sorte
Bere il licor, a me guardar il vaso,
Aperte stan le porte
A Neron, ed Otton fuori è rimaso;
Siede egli a mensa a satollar sue brame,
In amaro digiun mor'io di fame.
RITORNELLO
POPPEA
Chi nasce sfortunato
Di se stesso si dolga, e non d'altrui;
Del tuo penoso stato
Aspra cagion,
Otton, non son, nè fui; il destin getta i dadi e i punti attende:
L'evento, o buono o reo, da lui dipende.
RITORNELLO
OTTONE
La messe sospirata
Dalle speranze mie, da' miei desiri,
In altra mano è andata,
E non consente Amor che più v'aspiri;
Neron felice i dolci pomi tocca,
E solo il pianto a me bagna la bocca.
RITORNELLO
POPPEA
A te le calve tempie,
Ad altri il crine la fortuna diede;
S'altri i desiri adempie
Ebbe di te più fortunato piede.
La disventura tua non è mia colpa,
Te solo dunque e'l tuo destino incolpa.
RITORNELLO
OTTONE
Sperai che quel macigno,
Bella Poppea, che ti circonda il core,
Fosse d'amor benigno
Intenerito a pro del mio dolore,
Or del tuo bianco sen la selce dura
Di mie morte speranze è sepoltura.
RITORNELLO
POPPEA
Deh, non più rinfacciarmi,
Porta, deh porta il martellino in pace,
Cessa di più tentarmi,
Al cenno imperial Poppea soggiace;
Ammorza il foco omai, tempra li sdegni;
Io lascio te per arrivar ai regni.
OTTONE
E così l'ambizione
Sovra ogni vizio tien la monarchia.
POPPEA
Così, così la mia ragione
Incolpa i tuoi capprici di pazzia.
OTTONE
È questo del mio amor il guiderdone ?
POPPEA
Modestia, olà...
OTTONE
È questo del mio amor il guiderdone ?
POPPEA
...olà, non più,...
OTTONE
È questo del mio amor il guiderdone ?
POPPEA
...non più, son di Nerone.
OTTONE
Ahi, ahi, chi si fida
In un bel volto,
Fabbrica in aria, e sopra il vacuo fonda,
Tenta palpare il vento,
Ed immobili afferma il fumo, e l' onda.
ARNALTA
Infelice ragazzo
Mi move a compassion il miserello;
Poppea non ha cervello
A non gl'aver pietà,
Quand' ero in altra età
Non volevo gl'amanti
In lacrime distrutti,
Per compassion gli contentavo tutti.
English Libretto or Translation:
SCENE XI
Ottone, Poppea, Arnalta on the sidelines.
Ottone with Poppea palesa
his death hopes with her,
and from the loving passion the reproach,
Poppea disdains himself, and scorns him
part saying being subject to Nero.
REFRAIN
OTTONE
To others, lots of it
Drink the licor, look at the vase to me,
Doors are open
A Neron, and Otton out has remained;
He sits at table with his wishes,
In bitter fast I die of hunger.
REFRAIN
POPPEA
Who is born unlucky
Of himself he grieves, and not of others;
Of your painful state
Aspra cagion,
Otton, neither son nor hero; the recipient throws the dice and the points awaits:
The event, whether good or guilty, depends on him.
REFRAIN
OTTONE
The sighed harvest
From my hopes, from my desires,
In the other hand it went,
And it does not allow Love to aspire to you more;
Neron happy the sweet pomi touches,
And only the weeping wets me in the mouth.
REFRAIN
POPPEA
To you the bald temples,
To others the horsehair fortune gave;
The other desires fulfill
He had more lucky foot than you.
Your adventure is not my fault,
Only then is your destiny blamed.
REFRAIN
OTTONE
I hoped that that boulder,
Bella Poppea, which surrounds you the core,
Benevolent pits of love
Tightened to pro of my pain,
Or of your white, the hard flint
Of mine death hopes is burial.
REFRAIN
POPPEA
Oh, no more reproach me,
Door, deh brings the hammer in peace,
Stop trying,
At the imperial nod Poppea underlies;
It strengthens the fire omai, hardening the disdain;
I leave you to get to the kingdoms.
OTTONE
And so the ambition
The monarchy is over every vice.
POPPEA
So, so my reason
Blame your madcaps.
OTTONE
Is this of my love the guiderdone?
POPPEA
Modesty, olà ...
OTTONE
Is this of my love the guiderdone?
POPPEA
... olà, not anymore, ...
OTTONE
Is this of my love the guiderdone?
POPPEA
... no more, I am from Nero.
OTTONE
Ahi, ouch, who trusts
In a beautiful face,
Factory in the air, and above the vacuous foundation,
Try to touch the wind,
And real estate claims smoke, and the wave.
Arnalta
Unhappy boy
I move compassion to compassion;
Poppea has no brain
Not to have mercy on him,
When I was in another age
I did not want lovers
In tears destroyed,
For compassion I satisfied everyone.
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External links for Ad altri tocca in sorte
| Sheetmusic for recitative |  Sheetmusicplus.com |
| Sheetmusic for opera | Sheetmusicplus.com |
| MP3's for this recitative | on Amazon.com |
| DVD/CD's for this opera | on Amazon.com |
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