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!
Florence, 2003. Conductor: Zubin Mehta.
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