leider kein deutscher Text | GIOCONDO | GIOCONDO |
Oh come il fosco impetuoso
nembo
Ci separò!... Clarice, il Conte invano Chiamai sovente, e più l’altrui mi calse Che il mio periglio...Or tutto e calma, e solo Regna nel petto mio tempesta eterna. La mia tiranna io mi figuro in braccio Al’Amico rival... sparsa le chiome... Pallida... ansante... e lui veder mi sembra, Che al sen la stringe...la conforta... e pasce L’avido ciglio in quella. Fatta dal pianto, e dal timor più bella. Quell’alme pupille
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Oh, how the grim, impetuous
storm
Separated us... Often and in vain I called Clarice, the Count; and I was more concerned About the other’s danger than my own... Now all is calm, And only in my bosom reigns an eternal storm. I imagine my female tyrant in the arms Of my friend and rival...her hair undone... Pale.., panting.., and I seem to see him Press her to his breast..console her... and His greedy eyes feed on her, Made more beautiful by her weeping and her fear. Those divine eyes I keep in my heart; But they do not have A sweet gaze for me. Ah, Love, if my prolonged And always innocent trust Deserves your mercy, Then make me forget Such great beauty. You were the source Of my sorrow: You, Love, correct Your cruel deed. |
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