O Mimì, Tu Più Non Torni

Oh Mimì, you will not return anymore
Oh beautiful days
Small hands, fragrant hair
Snowy neck! Ah! Mimì
My brief youth

I don't know how it is
That my brush works
And mixes colors against my will
If I like to paint
Whether skies or lands
Or winters or springs
He traces two black pupils
And a provocative mouth
And Musetta's face still comes out

And you, delicate bonnet
That leaving under the pillow
Hid, you know everything
Our happiness
Come on my heart
On my dead heart
Because love is dead

And Musetta's face comes out
All charms and all deceit
Meanwhile, Musetta enjoys
And my vile heart
Calls her and waits