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(Lyrics from “Maid of Orleans” by Petr Tchaikovsky)
Translated by Richard Balthazar
JOAN:Must it be now? The day of no returning? My time has come!
ANGELS:Be brave now, Joan of Arc, smite the foe!
|ANGELS:||Joan of Arc! Joan of Arc! Thou must heed us!
Go forth! Away! Make haste into the battle!
Away, away! Go forth to meet thy fame!
Take up thy sword and lift thy holy banner,
The might of foes to reap like ripened grain!
Thine arm shall smite the enemy in battle,
And for thy deeds all France will praise thy name!
Be thou for France the savior she has prayed for!
Take Charles to Rheims! For thine’s the hand to crown him!
|JOAN:||Ye throngs of heaven’s holy angels, ye seraphim in all your splendor,
God’s will be done upon His Joan! My fear is gone, my soul is strong!
Into the fight the Lord is leading! He beckons me to follow Him!
So be it as our God decrees it! I’ll go with hosts of seraphim!
I’ll lead the troops to victory! I’ll take the rightful King to Rheims!
To battle! To battle I shall lead! I’ll go in triumph! On to victory!
|ANGELS:||Joan! Haste thee away!
Now the time has come to drive the foe from France!
Drive the English into the sea! To the fight, away!
Away! And God go with thee!
Away! Away! And go with God!
Go forth to triumph!
|JOAN:||But do I have the strength? How dare I now attempt this holy task?
What sorrow and what anguish weigh on my soul! I’m frightened!
Dear Lord, why can I not remain a humble maiden?
You, my old home, you, meadows of my youth,
How can I bear to leave you?
O the voices… How sweetly do they call me!
|Joan of Arc! Joan of Arc!
It’s time to don thy armor for the battle!
In iron thy youthful beauty shall be clad!
Beware of hope, deny all love and passion,
The wedding vows by thee will ne’er be said!
In battle God will cause all France to praise thee!
Above all maids on earth the Lord will raise thee!Ye throngs of heaven’s holy angels, ye seraphim in all your splendor,
Look down with pity on your Joan, I’m frightened, fearful, all alone!
O Lord above, I pray Thee, hear me in Thy resplendent starry height,
Please make this bitter cup pass by me, for I’m but mortal, born to die!