| Oh, what do I do? |
| What do I do? |
| From where am I thinking? |
|
| Oh, woman's miserable sex |
| If nature is heaven, if nature is heaven |
| If nature is heaven, free produces us |
| Then |
| Then |
| Then marriage encases us |
|
| But if, if we conceive of man |
| Oh, women's miserable sex |
| At our example, at our example |
| We form our members |
| We nurse the cruel executioner |
| That is thin and unleashed in us |
| We nurse this cruel |
| This cruel executioner that's thin and unleashes us |
| And we, we are forced |
| We are forced by unworthy fates |
| We give ourselves |
| We ourselves will give birth to, to death |
|
| Nero? Nero, wretched Nero? |
| Husband (God) |
| Husband, always damned |
| And cursed by my heartache |
| Where |
| Where |
| Where are you? |
| Where are you? |
|
| In the arms of Poppea |
| In her arms you live happy and enjoy her |
| And in the meantime |
| The frequent fall of my tears |
| Even, even it is almost forming |
| As in a deluge of mirrors in which you aim my suffering |
| And make your delights |
|
| But destiny, destiny, if you really exist |
| Jupiter, listen to me! |
| Of impotence I accuse you |
| Of injustice I charge you |
| Oh, oh God, I've gone too far |
| And I regret it |
| So I'll suppress and bury my sadness in taciturn anguish |
|