Verdi: Coro Di Schiavi Ebrei, Va Pensiero, Nabucco

Go, thought
On wings of gold
Go settle
On the slopes and hills
Where warm and soft
The sweet breezes of our native land
Greet the banks of the Jordan
The ruined towers of Zion
Oh my country so beautiful and lost!
Oh memory so dear and fatal!
Harp of the prophetic bards
Why do you hang mute from the willow?
Rekindle the memories in our hearts
Tell us about the times gone by!
Oh, like the fate of Jerusalem
Draw a sound of harsh lament
Or may the Lord inspire you a tune
That may infuse virtue into our suffering
That may infuse virtue into our suffering
That may infuse virtue into our departure
Into our departure, virtue!