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February 10th, 2012, 06:05
Act the second; La Zingara. Scene the first.
In which much exposition and great singing happens. Then off goes Manrico, being all manly and cool. Also, gypsies.



The first scene of the second act begins with Manrico recovering from wounds in a ruined house around which gypsies have made camp, or something similar. An uncertain amount of time has passed from the previous act, and as you will see the wounds Manrico is recovering from are not those suffered in the duel that closed the previous act but, instead, in a later one, in a battle amidst which he came across the count, again.

This scene is massive, and quite hard to translate. There's a lot of dialogue and exposition, and much lyrical language. This scene's also more or less a sucession of very identificable, representative, and enjoyable segments: The anvil chorus, stride la vampa, condotta ell'era in ceppi, and mal reggendo all'aspro assalto. Azucena, the one from among the four main roles we still had to meet, gets the spotlight in this scene, and I personally find her role in this recording, sung by Brigitte Fassbaender, quite enjoyable and interesting, and with a lot of character.

In any case, consider this a beta version. I am quite unsure about the translation on this one update, and kind of unhappy with the flow, but given I already got delayed quite a bit I will post it and then edit it as I polish it. And, again, feel free to suggest this or that as you see fit.



—> http://youtu.be/njlEpyaaNDQ <—

Un diruto abituro sulle falde di un monte della Biscaglia. Nel fondo, quasi tutto aperto, arde un gran fuoco. I primi albori. Azucena siede presso il fuoco. Manrico le sta disteso accanto sopra una coltrice ed avviluppato nel suo mantello; ha l'elmo ai piedi e fra le mani la spada, su cui figge immobilmente lo sguardo. Una banda di Zingari è sparsa all'interno.

A ruined dwelling on the lower slopes of a mount in Biscaglia. Behind, almost completely open, a great fire burns. The first lights of morning. Azucena sits next to the fire. Manrico, close to her, is stretched on a matress and wrapped on his cloak; he has his helm near his feet and between the hands the sword. A group of Gypsies is spread all around.

Zingari: Vedi! Le fosche notturne spoglie de' cieli sveste l'immensa volta; sembra una vedova che alfin si toglie i bruni panni ond'era involta. All'opra! all'opra! Dagli, martella.

Gypsies: See! The gloom of night empties the sky, naked the great vault; seems like a widow who at last removes the black clothes in which she was wrapped. To action! To work! Yield to the hammer.

Danno di piglio ai loro ferri del mestiere; al misurato tempestare dei martelli cadenti sulle incudini, or uomini, or donne, e tutti in un tempo infine intonano la cantilena seguente.

They grip the tools of their trade (both danno di piglio and ferri del mestiere are hard ones, as they are actually idioms. Even with Kz3r0's help I had a hard time understanding that line); to the measured tempest of the hammers' cadence join, now men, now woman, and all in the end, singing the following cantinela.

Gypsies: Chi del gitano i giorni abbella? La zingarella!

Gypsies: Who the days of the gypsy beautifies? The little gypsy girl!

Uomini, alle donne: Versami un tratto; lena e coraggio il corpo e l'anima traggon dal bere.

Men, to the women: Pour me a treat; vigour and courage the body and the soul draw from drink.

Le donne mescono ad essi in coppe.

The women pour to them in cups.

Tutti: Oh guarda, guarda! Del sole un raggio brilla più vivido nel mio/tuo bicchiere! All'opra, all'opra… Dagli, martella… Chi del gitano i giorni abbella? La zingarella!

Everyone: Oh see, see! Of the sun a ray shines more lively in my/your glass! To action, to work… Yield to the hammer… Who the days of the gypsy beautifies? The little gypsi girl!



—> http://youtu.be/uw1rozW5HIo <—

Azucena: Stride la vampa! La folla indomita corre a quel fuoco lieta in sembianza; urli di gioia intorno echeggiano: Cinta di sgherri donna s'avanza! Sinistra splende sui volti orribili la tetra fiamma che s'alza al ciel! Stride la vampa! Giunge la vittima nero vestita, discinta e scalza! Grido feroce di morte levasi; l'eco il ripete di balza in balza! Sinistra splende sui volti orribili la tetra fiamma che s'alza al ciel!

The flames clash! The wild mob runs to the fire delighted in semblance; joyful howls echo all around. Surrounded by goons the woman moves forward! Sinister shines upon their horrible faces the bleak flame raising to the sky! The flames clash! Arrives the victim clad in black, unfastened and barefoot! Fierce screams of death are raised; the echo repeats it from crag to crag! Sinister shines upon their horrible faces the bleak flame raising to the sky!



—> http://youtu.be/iGMDmFy_SBo <—

Zingari: Mesta è la tua canzon!

Gypsies: Sad is your song!

Azucena: Del pari mesta che la storia funesta da cui tragge argomento!

Azucena: As sad as the terrible story from which pulls its plot!

Rivolge il capo dalla parte di Manrico e mormora sommessamente.

She turns towards Manrico and whispers softly.

Azucena: Mi vendica… Mi vendica!

Azucena: Revenge me… revenge me!

Manrico, fra sè: L'arcana parola ognor!

Manrico, to himself: Again the mysterious word!

Vecchio Zingaro: Compagni, avanza il giorno. A procacciarci un pan, su, su! Scendiamo per le propinque ville.

Old Gypsy: Comrades, the day advances. To procure our bread, come on, come on! let's descend the neighbouring village.

Uomini: Andiamo.

Men: Let's go.

Ripongono sollecitamente nel sacco i loro arnesi.

They promptly place the tools in their sacks.

Donne: Andiamo.

Women: Let's go.

Tutti scendono alla rinfusa giù per la china; tratto tratto e sempre a distanza odesi il loro canto.

They descend the slope in bulk ; Every now and then, and always at a distance, is heard their chanting.

Zingari: Chi del gitano i giorni abbella? La zingarella!

Gypsies: Who the days of the gypsy beautifies? The little gypsy girl!



—> http://youtu.be/CcGz0niJ9q0 <—

Manrico: Soli or siamo; deh, narra questa storia funesta.

Manrico: We are alone; now, tell this terrible story.

Azucena: E tu la ignori, Tu pur! Ma, giovinetto, i passi tuoi d'ambizion lo sprone lungi traea! Dell'ava il fine acerbo e quest'istoria… La incolpò superbo conte di malefizio, onde asseria colto un bambin suo figlio… Essa bruciata venne ov'arde quel foco!

Azucena: And you ignore it, you too! But, young boy, the passing of your ambition it spurs in length! Of the bitter end of your ancestor is this story… The proud count charged her with sorcery, which a child, his son, had seized… She was burnt where that fire now burns.

Manrico, rifuggendo con raccapriccio dalla fiamma: Ahi! Sciagurata!

Manrico, retreating with horror from the flame: Ay, poor miserable!



—> http://youtu.be/-ukN7uXuat8 <—

Azucena: Condotta ell'era in ceppi al suo destin tremendo! Col figlio sulle braccia, io la seguia piangendo. Infino ad essa un varco tentai, ma invano aprirmi…
Invan tentò la misera fermarsi e benedirmi! Ché, fra bestemmie oscene, pungendola coi ferri, al rogo la cacciavano gli scellerati sgherri! Allor, con tronco accento: Mi vendica! esclamò. Quel detto un'eco eterna in questo cor lasciò.

Azucena: Taken was she, in shackles, to her terrible fate! With son in arms I followed crying. To her, in vain, I tried to open myself passage… In vain tried the pitiful to stop and bless me! And, among obscene curses, pricking her with irons, to the pyre threw her the villanous goons! Then, with broken words: Avenge me! she did exclaim. Such saying an eternal echo in this heart left.

Manrico: La vendicasti?

Manrico: Did you avenge her?

Azucena: Il figlio giunsi a rapir del Conte: Lo trascinai qui meco… Le fiamme ardean già pronte.

Azucena: For the son of the Count I reached: I brought him with me… The flames burnt now promptly.

Manrico: Le fiamme! oh ciel! Tu forse?

Manrico: The flames? Oh, heavens! You could?

Azucena: Ei distruggersi in pianto… Io mi sentiva il core dilaniato, infranto! Quand'ecco agli egri spirti, come in un sogno, apparve la vision ferale di spaventose larve! Gli sgherri ed il supplizio! La madre smorta in volto… Scalza, discinta! Il grido, il noto grido ascolto… Mi vendica! La mano convulsa tendo… stringo la vittima… nel foco la traggo, la sospingo… Cessa il fatal delirio… L'orrida scena fugge… La fiamma sol divampa, e la sua preda strugge! Pur volgo intorno il guardo e innanzi a me vegg'io dell'empio Conte il figlio…

Azucena: Distressed with tears, I felt my heart ripped to shreds, broken! While here of the suffering spirit, like in a dream, appeared with tragic vissage, a dreadful Lemur! (An obscure translation of Larva which I believe to be the right one in this case, being a manifestation of the vengeful and restless dead, which were also called masks, another reading for larva) The soldiers, the torment! The mother pale of face… Barefooted, unfastened! The scream, the well known call I hear… Avenge me! The feverish hand I tighten… I press the victim…. Into the fire I draw him, I push him… The irresistible frenzy stops… The horrid scene flees… The flames flare up, and their prey melts! I turn around my sigh and before me I see the cruel Count's son…

Manrico: Ah! come?

Manrico: Ah! How?

Azucena: Il figlio mio, Mio figlio avea bruciato!

Azucena: My son, I had burnt my son!

Manrico: Che dici! quale orror!

Manrico: What do you say! Such horror!

Azucena: Sul capo mio le chiome sento rizzarsi ancor!

Azucena: The hairs of my head I feel standing up still!

Azucena ricade, Manrico ammutolisce colpito d'orrore e di sorpresa. Momenti di silenzio.

Azucena relapses, Manrico is struck dumb with horror and surprise. A moment of silence.

Manrico: Non son tuo figlio? E chi son io, chi dunque?

Manrico: I am not your son? Who I am, who then?

Azucena: Tu sei mio figlio!

Azucena: You are my son!

Manrico: Eppur dicesti…

Manrico: But you said…

Azucena: Ah! Forse… Che vuoi! Quando al pensier s'affaccia il truce caso, lo spirto intenebrato pone stolte parole sul mio labbro… Madre, tenera madre non m'avesti ognora?

Azucena: Ah! Maybe… What do you want? When my thoughs face the cruel fate, the tenebrous spirit puts foolish worlds in my lips… Mother, tender mother haven't I always been?

Manrico: Potrei negarlo?

Manrico: Would I be able to deny it?

Azucena: A me, se vivi ancora, nol dei? Notturna, nei pugnati campi di Velilla, ove spento fama ti disse, a darti sepoltura non mossi? La fuggente aura vital non iscovrì, nel seno non t'arrestò materno affetto? E quante cure non spesi a risanar le tante ferite!

Azucena: To me, that you live now, don't owe? At night, in the battlefield of Velilla, where wasted your fame told you, to give you burial didn't I go? The fleeting breath of life didn't I discover, and motherly love didn't stop it in your breast? And how many cares didn't I spent to heal the many wounds!

Manrico: Che portai nel dì fatale… Ma tutte qui, nel petto! Io sol, fra mille già sbandati, al nemico volgendo ancor la faccia! Il rio De Luna me piombò col suo drappello; io caddi, però da forte io caddi!

Manrico: Those I had in that fatal day… But all here, in my chest! I alone, between thousands who fled, to the enemy faced! Cruel De Luna pounced on me with his platoon; I fell, but by bravery I fell!

Azucena: Ecco mercede ai giorni che l'infame nel singolar certame ebbe salvi da te! Qual t'acciecava strana pietà per esso?

Manrico: Here the payment for the day on which you forgave the vile in singular duel! Which odd mercy for him did blind you?

Manrico: Oh madre! Non saprei dirlo a me stesso!

Manrico: Oh, mother! I would not know what to say, even to myself!



—> http://youtu.be/4c4_8VbRkP8 <—

Manrico: Mal reggendo all'aspro assalto, ei già tocco il suolo avea: Balenava il colpo in alto che trafiggerlo dovea… Quando arresta un moto arcano, nel discender, questa mano… Le mie fibre acuto gelo fa repente abbrividir! Mentre un grido vien dal cielo, che mi dice: Non ferir!

Manrico: Badly bearing the harsh assault, he had already touch the ground: Flashed, raised, the strike that would pierce him… When a mysterious movement stops the descent of this hand… My every fibre to a sharp cold suddenly shivers! While a scream comes from heaven, telling me: Don't strike!

Azucena: Ma nell'alma dell'ingrato non parlò del cielo un detto! Oh! se ancor ti spinge il fato a pugnar col maledetto, compi, o figlio, qual d'un Dio, compi allora il cenno mio! Sino all'elsa questa lama vibra, immergi all'empio in cor.

Azucena: But in the ingrate's soul heaven didn't say a word! Oh! If now fate pushes to struggle with the accursed, carry on, o son, as that of a God, carry on my will! (It's actually sign instead of will, but that would make the translation read really akwardly) Until up to the hild this twisted blade you plunge into the impious' heart.

Manrico: Sì, lo giuro, questa lama scenderà dell'empio in cor.

Manrico: Yes, I swear, this blade will descend upon the heart of the wicked.

Odesi un prolungato suono di corno.

It is heard, at lenght, the sound of a horn.

Manrico: L'usato messo Ruiz invia! Forse…

Manrico: The usual messenger Ruiz sent! Maybe…

Azucena: Mi vendica!

Azucena: Avenge me!

Resta concentrata.

She remains, absorved.

Manrico, al Messo: Inoltra il piè. Guerresco evento, dimmi, seguìa?

Manrico, to the Messenger: Onward. What warlike events, tell me, followed you?

Messo: Risponda il foglio che reco a te.

Messenger: Will answer the sheet I bring to you.

Manrico: "In nostra possa è Castellor; ne dei tu, per cenno del prence, vigilar le difese. Ove ti è dato, affrettati a venir… Giunta la sera, tratta in inganno di tua morte al grido, nel vicin chiostro della croce il velo cingerà Leonora".

Manrico: "In our power is Castellor; And you must, by the Prince's sign, to watch the defense. When it is given to you, be quick to come… Arriving the night, about the deception of your death in scream, in the neighbouring cloister of the cross the veil will wear Leonora."

Con dolorosa esclamazione

With painful exclamation.

Manrico:Oh giusto cielo!

Manrico: Oh, just heaven!

Azucena, fra sč: Che fia!

Azucena, to herself: What goes?

Manrico, al Messo: Veloce scendi la balza, e d'un cavallo a me provvedi…

Manrico, to the messenger: Quick descend the crag, and of a horse provide me…

Messo: Corro…

Messenger: I run…

Azucena: Manrico!

Azucena: Manrico!

Manrico: Il tempo incalza… Vola, m'aspetta del colle a' piedi.

Manrico: The time is imminent… Fly, wait for me at the foot of the hill.

Il Messo parte frettolosamente.

The messenger departs hastily.

Azucena: E speri, e vuoi?

Azucena: And what do you hope to do, and want?

Manrico, fra sè: Perderla? Oh ambascia! Perder quell'angelo?

Manrico, to himself: To lose her? Oh, anguish! To lose such angel?

Azucena, fra sč: Č fuor di sé!

Azucena, to herself: He's out of himself! (i.e: He's out of his mind!)

Manrico, postosi l'elmo ed il mantello: Addio…

Manrico, putting the helm and the cloak: Farewell…

Azucena: No… ferma… odi…

Azucena: No… stop… hear…

Manrico: Mi lascia…

Manrico: Leave me…

Azucena: Ferma… Son io che parlo a te! Perigliarti ancor languente per cammin selvaggio ed ermo! Le ferite vuoi, demente, riaprir del petto infermo? No, soffrirlo non poss'io… Il tuo sangue è sangue mio! Ogni stilla che ne versi tu la spremi dal mio cor!

Azucena: Stop… It is me who speaks to you! To risk yourself now, languishing, through a journey brutal and solitary! The wound you want, madman, to reopen in the sick chest? No, to suffer such I can't… Your blood is my blood! Every drop that you spill you squeeze from my heart!

Manrico: Un momento può involarmi il mio ben, la mia speranza! No, che basti ad arrestarmi terra e ciel non han possanza… Ah! Mi sgombra, o madre, i passi… Guai per te s'io qui restassi! Tu vedresti ai piedi tuoi spento il figlio dal dolor!

Manrico: In a moment could vanish my wellbeing, my hope! No, enough to stop me earth and heaven have no power… Ah! Let me, o mother, pass… Woe to you if I here were to remain! You would see at your feet lifeless the son, of pain!

S'allontana, indarno trattenuto da Azucena.

He leaves, in vain Azucena's efforts to restrain him.



And thus, with Manrico being, once again, awesome and heroic, is that the first scene of the second act ends. Next time we meet the troubadour will rush to save his beloved from entering a convent and becoming a nun, only to find he's not the only one trying to do so. And the count gets some very nice moments, too.

The second scene is also much shorter than this one we just went through, so there will not be any epic delays this once. Again, I'm quite sorry for the delayed update. I'll try to split the really long or hard to translate scenes in the future into smaller and more manageable updates.

In any case, until the next time it is! Goodbye!

09.02.12: There is where this was left back in the Codex, so from here on I will be translating as we go and, thus, the updates will come slower than until now.

And many huggies for Kz3r0, whose help with some of the idioms used on this scene was the only reason this isn't even more akward than it already is. Supermegathankies!






@ Mrowak

For some this may count as "objective achieved", I guess. Opera is supposed to be overemphatic, I hear. But this was just wrong…
Opera isn't really about subtlety, nor storytelling, nor about emotion. Opera is all about passion, and about nothing else than passion. Pretentious people who never listened to opera will talk about how intellectual it is, or how refined it is, or how cultured it is, which only means they never actually sat down and watched or listened a whole opera the right way. Opera is raw, it is powerful, it is in your face and grander than life. Sometimes it is ridiculous, usually it spirals out of control, and more often than not what's left in its wake are a bunch of broken lives and a great many corpses. Opera characters aren't rational, boring individuals. They are all KINZO, and they all delight on it.

So what you say she did to you was actually a great feat. She made you feel exactly what the character was going through, and you reacted to that. There's nothing more :monocle: in Opera.

That aside, trying to judge Opera by the rules of other mediums will not make you very happy. In opera every motivation, every twist, every turn, and every single thingie related to the plot and the characters will be made obvious in advance. For example, when two characters misunderstand each other you will have both what the one meant and why the other misunderstood it clearly spelt to you. The focus is on how all those misunderstandings, passions, ambitions, agendas, etc, collide, in the beauty of the collision, on what the aftermath is, and on how unstoppable such an aftermath was once things got into motion and they became trapped in the flow of the collision.

(does it turn out Manrico was convicted for something? - it seems so)
As Patrick said, Manrico is more or less guilty of the medieval version of high treason.

Anyway, I am rooting for the Count, even though I know that by all laws of Narrativium Manrico will win (I am assuming we won't get to see the full duel though - only the effect in another act).
You got both right.

@ Kz3r0

The artistic depiction of witches traditionally follows folklore or the portrayal derived from witch-trials, other ways to depict them are definitely on the erotic side.
At least the erotic ones are kind of realistic. I mean, an agent of corruption needs people to, you know, open to them before the corrupting can begin, and that's far easier when you are young, hot, and pretty than when you are a crone with bad smell and an awful skin.

And nice girls do not become agents of darkness because they want to be ugly and smell, but because they want to have eternal youth, the hottest bodies ever, and a face to die for. Vanity has recruited more girls for the left hand than all the other sins put together.

But then artistic depictions usually can't be expected to know the difference between the witches that are actually followers of the left hand, the ones who are nice pagan girls worshipping the old gods and practicing kind magic, and the ones who are neither but just got falsely accused out of envy, revenge, or lust.

Like, uhm, how came we are talking about this, now?

Tell me more, tell me more… Like, does he have a car?

Let's opera! Il Trovatore.
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