La Donna è Mobile

Woman is fickle
Like a feather in the wind
She changes in tone
And in thought

Always a lovable
Graceful face
In tears and in laughter
She is deceitful

Woman is fickle
Like a feather in the wind
She changes in tone
And in thought
And in thought
And in thought

He who trusts her
Is always wretched
He who confides in her
His heart is heedless

Yet never can he feel
Fully happy
Who does not drink love
From that bosom

Woman is fickle
Like a feather in the wind
She changes in tone
And in thought
And in thought
And in thought