The Rose of Tralee | notte |
The pale moon was rising above the green mountain,
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea;
When I strayed with my true love to the pure crystal fountain,
That stands in the beautiful Vale of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
The cool shades of evening their mantle were spreading
And Mary all smiling sat listening to me;
The moon through the valley her pale rays were shining
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.
In the far fields of India (2)‘mid war's dreadful thunders,
Her voice was solace and comfort to me.
But the chill hand of death has now rent us asunder,
I'm lonely tonight for the Rose of Tralee
Though lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
Traduzione
La pallida luna sorgeva dalle rigogliose montagne,
il sole declinava nell'azzurro del mare,
quando io mi appartai col mio amore presso una fonte pura e cristallina,
che si trova nella bella Valle di Tralee.
Lei era adorabile e bella come le rose dell'estate,
ma non fu solo la sua bellezza a conquistarmi.
Oh, no! Fu la verità nei suoi occhi, scintillanti,
a farmi amare Maria, la Rosa di Tralee.
La sera spandeva le fresche ombre del suo manto
e Maria, tutta sorridente, mi ascoltava;
la luna emanava i suoi pallidi raggi attraverso la valle,
quando conquistai il cuore della Rosa di Tralee.
Nelle lontane terre dell'India (2) tra i tuoni orribili della guerra
la sua voce mi dava sollievo e conforto,
ma la fredda mano della morte ci ha ora separati
sono solo stanotte senza la Rosa di Tralee.