O don fatale – Don Carlo

O fatal gift, o cruel gift
That heaven, in its wrath, made me!
You make us so vain, so haughty,
I curse you, I curse you, o my beauty!
I can only pour out tears,
I have no hope, I will have to suffer!

My crime is truly horrible
I can never blot it out!
I curse you, I curse you, o my beauty,
O my Queen, I sacrificed you

To the foolish error of this heart.

Now only in a cloister from the world

Must I hide my grief!

Alas! Alas! O my Queen,
Oh heavens! Carlo! Going to his death tomorrow,

Great God! I will see him go to his death!
Ah, only one day remaining, hope smiles on me,
Ah, blessed be the heavens! I will save him!

Olga Borodina as Princess Eboli in Verdi's Don Carlo. Apologies for the black and white and blurry image.

Mia madre aveva una povera ancella - Otello

He seemed so to me.                                                    

He bid me get into bed and await him. 

                                                                                   

Emilia, I pray you,                                            

Lay out my spotless wedding garment

On my bed.                                                     

Listen! If I must die before you              

Bury me with one of those veils.                       

I am so desperately wretched.                                      

My mother had a poor servant girl                   

She was beautiful and in love

Her name was Barbara;

She loved a man but he abandoned her,

She sang a song;

The song of the willow.                                     

Take down my hair.                                         

This evening I have haunting memories 

Of that lullaby.                                    

"She wept, singing in the lonely heath                 

The sad girl wept.                                            

O Willow! Willow!  Willow!                                          

She sat bowing her head on her breast!                       

Willow! Willow! Willow!

Let’s sing! Let’s sing!                                          

The willow shall be my funeral garland."           

Hurry; Othello will be here soon.                      

"The streams flowed between the flowering banks               

She lamented that broken heart,                           

And the heart flowed out, from the eyes        

The bitter wave of tears,                           

Willow! Willow!  Willow!

Let’s sing! Let’s sing!                                          

The willow shall be my funeral garland."           

"The birds flew down from the dark branches            

Towards that sweet song.                                 

And her eyes wept so bitterly

That even the rocks were moved to pity."                                             

Put on this ring.                                    

Poor Barbara!                                                  

She would end her story with this simple line:    

"He was born for his own glory, I for love."

Listen. I hear a lament. Be quiet.                       

Who knocks on the door?                                

"I to love him and to die                                   

Let’s sing! Let’s sing!                                          

Willow! Willow! Willow!”

Emilia, farewell.                                                

How my eyes burn!                                          

It presages weeping.

Goodnight.                                                      

Ah! Emilia, Emilia, farewell!

Barbara Frittoli as Desdemona in Verdi's Otello.

Florence, 2003. Conductor: Zubin Mehta.          

Largo al factotum – Il Barbiere di Siviglia

Make way for the city’s factotum.
Make way! La la la la la la la LA!
Early to his shop, it’s already dawn.
Early! La la la la la la la LA!
Ah, what a beautiful life, what a lovely pleasure
for an excellent barber!

Ah, bravo Figaro!
Bravo, well done!
Bravo! La la la la la la la LA!
Truly a most fortunate man!
Bravo!

Ready to do everything, night and day
Always moving about.
It’s the best abundance for a barber,
A more noble life, no, it cannot be found.
La la la la la la la la la la la la la!

Razors and combs
Pointers and scissors,
at my command
Everything is here.

Here are the tools,
Then, the trade
with the ladies, with the gentlemen.

Everyone asks for me, everyone wants me,
women, guys, elderly, young girls:
Here is the wig, there is a beard.
Here a leech, there a ticket.

Figaro...
Alas, what a fury!
Alas, what a crowd!
One at a time,
please!...

Figaro! I’m here.
Hey, Figaro! I’m here.

Figaro here, Figaro there…
Figaro up, Figaro down…

Swift, I’m as quick as the lightning:
I am the city’s jack of all trades.

Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, very good;
Fortune will not fail you.

Tito Gobbi as Figaro in Rossini's Barber of Seville.

Film 1946.

Ah, per sempre – I puritani

Ah, I’ve lost you forever,
My flower of love, oh my hope;
Ah! The life ahead of me
Will be full of sorrow!
When I wandered for years and years
Under the power of misfortune,
I defied grief and disaster
In the hope of your love.

Lovely, blessed dream,
Of peace and contentment,
Change my fate,
Or change my heart.
Oh! What a torment
On the day of my grief,
The sweet memory
Of a tender love.

Dmitri Hvorostovsky sings an aria from Bellini's I Puritani.

Moscow, 1991.

Vissi d'arte - Tosca

I lived for art, I lived for love,
I never hurt a living soul!
With a secretive hand
I helped every misfortunate soul I encountered.

With sincere faith
My prayer always
Ascended to the holy shrines.
With sincere faith
I always gave flowers on the altar.
In the hour of pain
Why, why, Lord,
Why do you reward me like this?
I gave jewels for Madonna’s mantle,
And I gave a song to the stars, to the heavens,
that smiled full of beauty.
In the hour of grief
Why, why, Lord,
Ah, why do you reward me like this?

Mezzo Elena Obraztsova sings the soprano aria, "vissi d'arte" from Puccini's Tosca.

Tokyo, 1980.