Dio, mi potevi...

Lord! You could've put me through all the torture
Of deepest sighs,
Of deepest shame.
Made of my glorious fame and fortune
A bunch of lies,
A silly game.

And I would have borne
The cruel cross
Of anguished straits
With no complaints,
And accepted, forlorn,
That the skies wished my loss.

But -- oh sorrow, oh pain,
They have stolen that one sign
Under which, for a while,
I rested my soul!
Nothing but rain,
Dead is the sunshine
That made me smile,
That kept me whole!

And now, oh Mercy, I merely ask,
Pink cherub holy --
Cover your face wholly
With Hell's horrible mask!

Боже! Ты ведь мог мне дать столько печали,
Столько стыда
И унижений.
Стереть в порошок ордена и медали --
Мол, ерунда!
Мол, сочиненье!

И я все бы вынес:
Твой крест жестокий,
И столько срама --
Стоял бы прямо,
И знал, что Ты не
Караешь, а Твой перст высокий...

Но, увы! О, печаль!
Я обкраден бесчестно --
Украли тот миф,
Которым крепился!
Солнце мое, как жаль,
Пропало безвестно;
Тот счастья прилив,
На который молился...

Ты, Состраданье,
Розовый ангел мой --
Лицо свое закрой
Дьявольской маской стенанья!


(Otello by Giuseppe Verdi, lyrics by Arrigo Boito. Ramón Vinay, NBC Symphony Orchestra, dir. by Arturo Toscanini, 1947)

[My dream: some new Three Tenors perform all three versions: first, one at a time (one language, each); then, for the final encore -- simultaneously, to a standing ovation! At La Scala or the Met, say! My fee: a coupla tickets (incl. airfare, hotel, and cabs), plus show booklets (or leaflets, whatever) signed by said tenors.]

© Copyright 2022, Serge Elnitsky

BACK to "music-related"