Alfredo
Let us drink from the joyful cups where beauty blossoms, and let the fleeting hour be intoxicated with pleasure. Let us drink to the sweet tremors awakened by love, for those eyes pierce the heart. Let us drink, for love among the goblets will know warmer kisses.

Violetta
With you I can share my hours of happiness. Everything in the world that is not pleasure is folly. Let us enjoy love, fleeting and swift. It is a flower that blooms and dies in a moment, and cannot be enjoyed again. Let us enjoy it, for a charming and passionate invitation summons us.

Alfredo and Violetta
Life is celebration. Let us enjoy it, and may the new day find us still rejoicing.

What a beautiful thing is a sunny day, the peaceful air after a storm! The air is so fresh that it already feels like a celebration. What a beautiful thing is a sunny day!

But there is another sun, even more beautiful, my dear. My own sun shines from your face. The sun, my sun, shines from your face.

Your windowpanes gleam. A washerwoman sings and boasts as she wrings out the clothes, hangs them up, and sings. Your windowpanes gleam.

When night comes and the sun goes down, I begin to feel melancholy. I would stay beneath your window when night comes and the sun goes down. But there is another sun, even more beautiful. My own sun shines from your face.

When I walk alone along the street, people stop and stare. They examine all my beauty from head to foot.

Then I savour the subtle desire that shines from their eyes. From my visible charms, they imagine the hidden beauties. The scent of desire surrounds me completely, and it makes me happy.

And you, who know me, who remember and suffer, why do you avoid me? I know very well that you do not want to reveal your anguish, but you feel as though you are dying.

Oh, my dear papa, I love him. He is so handsome. I want to go to Porta Rossa to buy the ring!

Yes, yes, I want to go! And if my love were in vain, I would go to the Ponte Vecchio and throw myself into the Arno.

I am anguished and tormented. Oh God, I would rather die! Papa, have pity, have pity!

Yes, they call me Mimì, but my real name is Lucia. My story is a short one. I embroider silk and satin at home and elsewhere. I am peaceful and happy, and my pastime is making lilies and roses.

I love things that possess a sweet enchantment, things that speak of love and springtime, of dreams and fantasies, the things we call poetry. Do you understand me?

They call me Mimì, but I do not know why. I live alone and prepare my own meals. I do not always go to Mass, but I pray often to the Lord.

I live all alone in a little white room. I look out over the rooftops and the sky. But when the thaw comes, the first sunshine is mine. The first kiss of April is mine!

A rose blooms in my vase, and I watch it open petal by petal. How delicate is the perfume of a flower! But the flowers I make, alas, have no fragrance.

There is nothing more I know how to tell you about myself. I am your neighbour, disturbing you at this late hour.

Love is a rebellious bird that no one can tame, and it is useless to call for it if it chooses to refuse. Nothing works, neither threat nor prayer. One man speaks well, the other remains silent. I prefer the silent one. He has said nothing, but he pleases me.

Love is a child of Bohemia. It has never, never known any law. If you do not love me, I love you. And if I love you, beware!

The bird you thought you had caught beat its wings and flew away. Love is far off when you wait for it, but when you stop waiting, there it is. All around you, quickly, quickly, it comes, goes, and returns. You think you hold it, and it escapes. You think you escape it, and it holds you.

If you do not love me, I love you. And if I love you, beware!

Come, hurry! I want to set that cold heart aflame. I will give you the courage to complete the bold undertaking. The prophetesses promise you the throne of Scotland. Why do you delay? Accept the gift and ascend to reign!

Rise now, all you ministers of hell who spur mortals onward to bloodshed! O night, wrap us in unmoving darkness. Let the dagger not see the breast it strikes.

Have you encountered the ship upon the sea, with blood-red sails and a black mast? High on deck stands the pale man, the ship’s master, keeping watch without rest. Hear how the wind roars and whistles through the rigging! Like an arrow the ship flies onward, without destination, without rest, without peace.

Yet the pale man might still find redemption if he could find on earth a woman faithful to him until death. Ah, when will you find her, pale sailor? Pray to heaven that soon a woman will remain true to him.

Once, in a violent wind and raging storm, he tried to sail around a cape. In wild defiance he cursed and swore, “I will never give up, not for all eternity!” Satan heard him and took him at his word. Now he is condemned to wander the sea without rest or peace.

But so that the unfortunate man might still find redemption on earth, an angel of God revealed how his salvation could be won. Every seven years he comes ashore to seek a wife. Every seven years he has courted, but he has never found a faithful woman. Raise the sails, lift the anchor! False love, false faithfulness! Back to sea, without rest or peace.

Where is the woman whom God’s angel will reveal to you? Where will you find the one who will remain faithful until death?

I shall be that woman! My faithfulness will redeem you. May God’s angel lead you to me. Through me, you shall find salvation!

Listen! The peaceful night was silent, and in the calm sky the moon revealed her full and shining silver face.

Then, through the air that until that moment had been so still, I heard the sweet and mournful chords of a lute. A troubadour sang melancholy verses, humble as the prayer of a man speaking to God.

In that song a name was repeated, my own name! I hurried to the balcony. It was he, it was truly he! I felt a joy granted only to the angels. To my ecstatic heart and eyes, the earth seemed like heaven.

My heart became intoxicated with a love that words can scarcely express, a love that only I understand. My destiny can be fulfilled only at his side. If I cannot live for him, then for him I will die!

Sounds of my homeland, you awaken my longing and call tears into my eyes. When I hear you, songs of home, I am drawn back to you, my Hungary.

O homeland, so wonderful! How brightly the sun shines there, how green your forests, how joyful your fields, O land where I once was so happy.

Your beloved image fills my whole soul. Though I am far from you, so far away, my heart remains forever devoted to you alone.

Fire and joy of life swell the true Hungarian breast. Hurry to the dance, the csárdás rings out brightly! Brown-haired maiden, you must be my dancing partner. Quickly give me your arm, dark-eyed child. Lower your eyes toward the ground, for that foretells happiness.

Thirsty revellers, seize your cups. Let them circle quickly from hand to hand. Drink the fire of Tokay wine, and raise a toast to the homeland! Fire and joy of life fill the true Hungarian breast. Hurry to the dance, the csárdás rings out brightly!

Dear hall, I greet you once again. Joyfully I greet you, beloved place! Within you his songs awaken, and they wake me from gloomy dreams.

When he departed from you, how desolate you seemed to me. Peace fled from me, and joy departed from you.

How powerfully my heart is leaping now! You appear proud and noble once again. The one who gives new life to both you and me no longer remains far away.

I greet you! I greet you! Dear hall, receive my greeting!