Ecce gratum I. Primo vere by Carl Orff Lyrics
Latina
[Coro]
Ecce gratum
et optatum
Ver reducit gaudia:
purpuratum
floret pratum,
Sol serenat omnia.
Iam iam cedant tristia!
Estas recedit
Hyemis sevitia. Ah!
Iam liquescit
et decrescit
grando, nix et cetera;
bruma fugit,
et iam sugit
Ver Estatis ubera;
illi mens est misera,
qui nec vivit,
nec lascivit
sub Estatis dextera. Ah!
Gloriantur
et letantur
in melle dulcedinis
qui conantur,
ut utantur
premio Cupidinis ;
simus jussu Cypridis
gloriantes
et letantes
pares esse Paridis. Ah!
English
[Chorus]
Behold, the pleasant
and longed-for
spring brings back joyfulness,
violet flowers
fill the meadows,
the sun brightens everything,
sadness is now at an end!
Summer returns,
now withdraw
the rigors of winter. Ah!
Now melts
and disappears
ice, snow and the rest,
winter flees,
and now
spring sucks at summer's breast:
A wretched soul is he
who does not live
or lust
under summer's rule. Ah!
They glory
and rejoice
in honeyed sweetness
who strive
to make use of
Cupid's prize;
at Venus' command
let us glory
and rejoice
in being Paris' equals. Ah!
[Coro]
Ecce gratum
et optatum
Ver reducit gaudia:
purpuratum
floret pratum,
Sol serenat omnia.
Iam iam cedant tristia!
Estas recedit
Hyemis sevitia. Ah!
Iam liquescit
et decrescit
grando, nix et cetera;
bruma fugit,
et iam sugit
Ver Estatis ubera;
illi mens est misera,
qui nec vivit,
nec lascivit
sub Estatis dextera. Ah!
Gloriantur
et letantur
in melle dulcedinis
qui conantur,
ut utantur
premio Cupidinis ;
simus jussu Cypridis
gloriantes
et letantes
pares esse Paridis. Ah!
English
[Chorus]
Behold, the pleasant
and longed-for
spring brings back joyfulness,
violet flowers
fill the meadows,
the sun brightens everything,
sadness is now at an end!
Summer returns,
now withdraw
the rigors of winter. Ah!
Now melts
and disappears
ice, snow and the rest,
winter flees,
and now
spring sucks at summer's breast:
A wretched soul is he
who does not live
or lust
under summer's rule. Ah!
They glory
and rejoice
in honeyed sweetness
who strive
to make use of
Cupid's prize;
at Venus' command
let us glory
and rejoice
in being Paris' equals. Ah!