“Va pensiero” (Slave chorus)
Go, thoughts, on golden wings;
Go, settle upon the slopes and hills,
where the breezes of our sweet native land
are warm and soft and fragrant!
Greet the banks of the Jordan,
the towers of Zion …
Oh my country so beautiful and lost!
Or so dear yet unhappy!
Or harp of the prophetic seers,
why do you hang silent from the willows?
Rekindle the memories within our hearts,
tell us about the time that have gone by
Or similar to the fate of Solomon,
give a sound of lament;
or let the Lord inspire a concert
That may give to endure our suffering.