Ah, fuggi il traditor!
Oh, flee the traitor,
Non lo lasciar più dir!
and let him say no more!
Il labbro è mentitor,
His lips are liars;
fallace il ciglio.
his eyes tell falsehoods.
Da' miei tormenti impara
From my sufferings be warned
A creder a quel cor,
about putting your trust in that heart.
E nasca il tuo timor
And may fear be born in you
Dal mio periglio.
from my peril.
Mi tradì quell'alma ingrata,
He has betrayed me, that ungrateful soul —
Infelice, o Dio!, mi fa.
how unhappy — O God — has he made me!
Ma tradita e abbandonata,
But, betrayed and abandoned though I am,
Provo ancor per lui pietà.
I still know pity for him.
Quando sento il mio tormento,
When I am aware of my suffering,
Di vendetta il cor favella;
of vengeance my heart speaks;
Ma, se guardo il suo cimento,
But when I see the predicament he is in,
Palpitando il cor mi va.
throbbing goes my heart.
Poor Elvira! But I would feel much less sorrow, and therefore less bittersweet pleasure, if she did not prolong and repeat her lines. In the end it is always heartbreaking to hear her final "…ancor per lui pietà," even though I know it is coming. But the words look foolish, even embarrassing, when I see them flat on the page, and I do not need to see them acted at all. Only the music gives them life and time of their own.