Difference between revisions of "Mein Freund komme in seinen Garten (Philipp Dulichius)"

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{{Lyricist|Song of Solomon 4: 16; 5: 1,2,5,6,8}}
 
{{Lyricist|Song of Solomon 4: 16; 5: 1,2,5,6,8}}
  
{{Voicing|8|SAATTTBB}}<br>
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{{Voicing|8|SAATTTBB|SATBATTB}}<br>
 
{{Genre|Sacred|Motets}}
 
{{Genre|Sacred|Motets}}
 
{{Language|German}}
 
{{Language|German}}
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'''External websites:'''  
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'''External websites:'''
  
 
==Original text and translations==
 
==Original text and translations==

Revision as of 18:57, 2 August 2020

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Editor: Christopher Shaw (submitted 2020-08-02).   Score information: A4, 12 pages, 138 kB   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes: Please click on the link for preview/playback/PDF download.


General Information

Title: Mein Freund komme in seinen Garten
Composer: Philipp Dulichius
Lyricist: Song of Solomon 4: 16; 5: 1,2,5,6,8create page

Number of voices: 8vv   Voicing: SATBATTB
Genre: SacredMotet

Language: German
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1610 in Centuriae (part three), Stettin.

Description: Composed for the nuptial celebrations at the marriage of Francis I, Duke of Pomerania-Stettin with Sophie of Saxony, 1610, and printed later that year in Centuriae (part three).


External websites:

Original text and translations

German.png German text

Mein Freund komme in seinen Garten und esse seinen edlen Früchten.
Ich komm, meine Schwester, liebe Braut, in meinen Garten.
Ich schlafe, aber mein Herze wachet. Da ist die Stimme meines Freundes, der anklopfet:
Thu mir auf, liebe Freundin, meine Schwester, meine Taube, meine Fromme,
denn mein Haupt ist voll Thaues und meine Locken voll Nachttropfen.
Da stand ich auf, daß ich meinem Freund auftäte; meine Hände troffen mit Myrrhe.
Und da ich meinem Freund aufgetan hatte, war er weg und hingegangen. Ich suchte ihn,
aber ich fand ihn nicht; ich rief, aber er antwortete mir nicht.
Ich beschwöre euch, ihr Töchter Jerusalems, findet ihr meinen Freund,
so saget ihm, daß ich vor Liebe krank liege.

English.png English translation

Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.
I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse:
I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying,
Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled:
for my head is filled with dew,and my locks with the drops of the night.
I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh,
but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: I sought him,
but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved,
that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.