IT
ZACCARIA

Oh chi piange? di femmine imbelli

chi solleva lamenti all'Eterno?

Oh sorgete, angosciati fratelli,

sul mio labbro favella il Signor!

Del futuro nel bujo discerno …

ecco rotta l'indegna catena! …

Piomba già sulla perfida arena

del leone di Giuda il furor!

EBREI

Oh futuro!

ZACCARIA

A posare sui crani, sull'ossa

qui verranno le jene, i serpenti,

fra la polve dall'aure commossa

un silenzio fatal regnerà!

Solo il gufo suoi tristi lamenti

spiegherà quando viene la sera …

niuna pietra ove sorse l'altiera

Babilonia allo stranio dirà!

EBREI

Oh qual foco nel veglio balena!

Sul suo labbro favella il Signor!

Sì, fia rotta l'indegna catena,

già si scuote di Giuda il valor!

ZACCARIA

Niuna pietra ecc.

EN
Zaccaria
Oh who's crying? of fake females
who raises complaints to the Lord?
Oh rise up, anguished brothers,
Mr. on my lips favors!
Of the future in the dark discernment ...
the unworthy chain is here! ...
Piomb already on the perfidious arena
of the lion of Judah the fury!

JEWS
Oh future!

Zaccaria
To pose on the skulls, on the bone
here will come the jene, the snakes,
between the poles with a touched aura
a fatal silence will reign!
Only the owl his sad lamentations
will explain when the evening comes ...
no stone where the highland rose
Babylon to the stranger will say!

JEWS
Oh what a fire in the venous whale!
Mr. on your lips favors!
Yes, the unworthy chain is broken,
the value is already shaken by Judas!

Zaccaria
Niuna stone etc.

Où va le jeune Indoue,
Fille des Parias,
Quand la lune se joue
Dans les grands mimosas?
Quand la lune se joue
Dans les grands mimosas?
Elle court sur la mousse
Et ne se souvient pas

Que partout on repousse
L’enfant des parias.
Elle court sur la mousse,
L’enfant des parias;
Le long des lauriers roses,
Rêvant de douces choses,
Ah!

Elle passe sans bruit
Et riant à la nuit à la nuit!
Là-bas dans la forêt plus sombre,
Quel est ce voyageur perdu?
Autour de lui des yeux brillent dans l’ombre,

Il marche encore au hasard éperdu!
Les fauves rugissent de joie,
Ils vont se jeter sur leur proie

La jeune fille accourt et brave leurs fureurs,

Elle a dans sa main la baguette
Où tinte la clochette, où tinte la clochette
Des charmeurs.
(imitant la clochette)
Ah! ah! ah!
L’étranger la regarde,
Elle reste éblouie,
Il est plus beau que les Rajahs!
Il rougira s’il sait qu’il doit la vie
A la fille des parias.
Mais lui, l’endormant dans un rêve,
Jusque dans le ciel il l’enlève,
En lui disant: ta place est là!
C’était Vishnou, fils de Brahma!
Depuis jour au fond des bois,
Le voyageur entend parfois
Le bruit léger de la baguette
Où tinte la clochette,
Où tinte la clochette
Des charmeurs.
(imitant la clochette)
Ah! ah! ah!

Where will the young Indian girl,
daughter of the paraiahs,
go when the moon dances
In the large mimosas trees?
She runs on the moss
And does not remember
That she is pushed around
The child of outcasts;
Along the oleanders,
Dreaming of sweet things, Ah!
She goes without noise
And laughs a night.
There in the dark forest
Who is the lost traveler?
Around him
Eyes shining in the darkness,
He wonders randomly, aimless and lost!
The wild beasts roar of joy,
They will pounce on their prey,
The girl runs to him
And braves their fury
She has in her hand the baton
with tinkle bell charms!
The stranger looks at her,
and remains dazzled.
She is more beautiful than the Rajahs!
He will blush if he knows he must owe
his life to the daughter of the pariahs.
But they fall asleep and drift into a dream,
Up in the sky, they are transported,
The traveler tells her: 'your place is here!'
It was Vishnu, son of Brahma!
From that day on, in the depths of the dark forest,
a traveler may sometimes hear
the slight noise of the baton
with the tinkle bell charms!