Io mi son giovinetta (Domenico Maria Ferrabosco)

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• (Posted 2014-01-02)  CPDL #30924:        (Finale 2008)

Editor: André Vierendeels (submitted 2014-01-02).   Score information: A4, 4 pages, 89 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes:

• (Posted 2006-02-09)  CPDL #10961:         

Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2006-02-09).   Score information: A4, 4 pages, 39 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes: NoteWorthy Composer file may be viewed and printed with NoteWorthy Composer Viewer.

• (Posted 2004-07-13)  CPDL #07588:      (Sibelius 2)

Editor: Brent Alexenko (submitted 2004-07-13).   Score information: Letter, 4 pages, 96 kB   Copyright: Personal

Edition notes:

General Information

Title: Io mi son giovinetta
Composer: Domenico Maria Ferrabosco
Lyricist: Giovanni Boccaccio
Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Madrigal

Language: Italian
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1542 in Il primo libro d'i madrigali a misura di breve (Antonio Gardano), Edition 1, no. 26
    2nd published: 1569 in Corona libro primo (Zorzi, Venice), no. 23
    3rd published: 1583 in Musica divina di 19 autori illustri (Phalèse & Bellère), no. 3
    4th published: 1584 in Pratum musicum (ed. Emanuel Adriaenssen) – arr. for two voices and lute, Edition 1, no. 6
    5th published: 1588 in Gemma musicalis liber primus (Friedrich Lindner), no. 48
Description: 

Original text and translations

This is the beginning of the ballata by Neifile at the end of the ninth day of Boccaccio's Decamerone.

Italian text Io mi son giovanetta e volontieri M'allegro e canto en la stagion novella, Merzé d'amore e de' dolci pensieri. Io vo pe' verdi prati riguardando I bianchi fiori, e' gialli, Le rose in su le spine, ei bianchi gigli, E tutti quanti gli vo somigliando Al viso di colui ch'amandomi, ch'amandomi mi presa terrà sempre.

English translation I am a young girl, and I like To be merry and sing in the new season (spring), Thanks love and sweet toughts. I go through the green meadows, looking At the flowers, white and yellow, At the roses over the thorns, at the white lilies, And more and more they look to me like The face of whom, loving me, Loving me will catch me and hold me forever.