È Strano... Ah, Fors'è Lui... Sempre Libera

It's strange! It's strange!
In my heart, those accents are engraved!
Would a serious love be misfortune for me?
What do you decide, oh troubled soul of mine?
No man has ever ignited you
Oh, joy
that I never knew
being loved while loving!
And can I scorn it
for the dry follies of my life?

Ah, maybe it's him that the soul
solitary in tumult
often enjoyed painting
with his hidden colors
He, who modest and watchful
ascended to the bitter thresholds
and ignited a new fever
awakening me to love!
To that love that is the heartbeat
of the entire universe
mysterious, proud
cross and delight to the heart!

Follies! This is a vain delirium!
Poor woman, alone, abandoned
in this populous desert
they call Paris
what do I hope for now?
What should I do?
Rejoice!
To perish in the whirlpools of pleasure!
Rejoice!

Always free I must
revel from joy to joy
I want my life to flow
through the paths of pleasure
let the day be born, or the day die
always happy in gatherings
with ever new delights
my thoughts must fly

Follies! This is a vain delirium!
Poor woman, alone, abandoned
in this populous desert
they call Paris
what do I hope for now?
What should I do?
Rejoice!
To perish in the whirlpools of pleasure

Always free I must
revel from joy to joy
I want my life to flow
through the paths of pleasure
let the day be born, or the day die
always happy in gatherings
with ever new delights
my thoughts must fly