Passacaglia Della Vita - Italian Renaissance Song

Music by Stefano Landi, vocals and arrangement by Farya Faraji. This is a song by Stefano Landi, baptized 26 February 1587 – 28 October 1639, an eminent figure of the Early Baroque School of Italian music. This specific piece is a passacaglia, a form originally from 17th century Spain characterised by a repeating, unchanging bass line forming the skeleton of the music, over which the melody and subsequent polyphonic variations are performed. Thanks a whole lot to Luinmir for having recommended this song first--I listened to it once in September and fell in love, so I had to do this one. Lyrics in Italian Oh come t’inganni Se pensi che gl’anni Non hann’ da finire, Bisogna morire È un sogno la vita Che par sì gradita, E breve gioire, Bisogna morire Non val medicina, Non giova la China, Non si può guarire, Bisogna morire Non vaglion sberate, Minarie, bravate Che caglia l’ardire, Bisogna morire Dottrina che giova, Parola non trova Che plachi l’ardire, Bisogna morire Non si trova modo Di scoglier ’sto nodo, Non val il fuggire, Bisogna morire Commun’è statuto, Non vale l’astuto ’Sto colpo schermire, Bisogna morire La morte crudele A tutti è infedele, Ogn’uno svergogna, Morire bisogna È pur ò pazzia O gran frenesia, Par dirsi menzogna, Morire bisogna Si more cantando, Si more sonando La Cetra, o Sampogna, Morire bisogna Si muore danzando, Bevendo, mangiando Con quella carogna Morire bisogna I Giovani, i putti E gl’Huomini tutti S’hann’a incenerire, Bisogna morire. I sani, gl’infermi, I bravi, gl’inermi Tutt’hann’a finire, Bisogna morire E quando che meno Ti pensi, nel seno Ti vien a finire, Bisogna morire Se tu non vi pensi Hai persi li sensi, Sei morto e puoi dire: Bisogna morire English translation: O how you deceive yourself if you think your time won’t come to an end, we have to die. Life is a dream that seems so pleasing but is briefly enjoyed, we have to die. Of no avail is medicine, of no use is quinine, we cannot be cured, we have to die. It’s no use ranting and railing, the bravado that stiffens courage, we must die. No guiding doctrine finds the words to allay our fears, we have to die. There’s no means to untie this knot, there’s no escape, we must die. It’s our common fate, no cunning ploys can fend it off, we must die. Cruel death betrays us all, shames each of us, die we must. It’s just lunatic and frenetic to tell lies about it, die we must. We die when singing, we die when playing the zither, the bagpipe, die we must. We die when dancing, drinking and eating; trapped in our bodies, die we must. Youngsters and toddlers and all of humanity are burnt to ashes, we have to die. The healthy, the sick, the brave, the helpless, all come to an end, we have to die. And when you are least expecting it, you will come to your end, we have to die. If it’s not on your mind, you’ve lost your senses, and are dead, so you can say: we have to die.