Act the third; Il Figlio Della Zingara. Scene the first.
In which a certain gypsy shows us just how awesome you can be without no one noticing.
So here we are, once again, ready for some epic singing. Let me say, one more time, how very sorry I am about this delay, but don't worry nor fret too much: We are almost there! Only three more scenes to go, and they are all kind of short. This scene is, also, kind of short, and I had planned on doing both this one and the next one, also shortish, in a single post but, alas, I wanted to show you people that this was still alive.
Anyway, as this scene begins we rejoin the Count of Luna as his army lays siege upon Castellor, where Manrico and Leonora are hidden. There are three very awesome moments in this one part:
Squilli, echeggi la tromba guerriera is a delightful little song, and since first listening to it I haven't been able to imagine the Count's armies as anything other than Asterix's roman legions. Then there is a very small moment for Ferrando to shine while reporting to the Count, and finally we get to a terzetto with the Count, Ferrando, and Azucena singing with choral accompaniment.
Accampamento. A destra il padiglione del Conte di Luna, su cui sventola la bandiera in segno di supremo comando; da lungi torreggia Castellor. Scolte di uomini d'arme dappertutto; alcuni giuocano, altri puliscono le armi, altri passeggiano. Poi Ferrando dal padiglione del Conte.
A camp. To the right the Count of Luna's pavilion, above which flutters the flag as a symbol of supreme leadership; far away the towers of Castellor. Men of arms can be seen everywhere; some gambling, others cleaning the weapors, others walking by. Later Ferrando (comes out)
the Count's pavilion.
Alcuni armigeri: Or co' dadi, ma fra poco giuocherem ben altro gioco.
Some armigers: Now with dice, but soon enough we'll play well another game.
Altri: Quest'acciar, dal sangue or terso, fia di sangue in breve asperso!
Others: This steel, of blood now clean, will of blood be soon sprinkled!
Odonsi strumenti guerrieri.
Are heard the instruments of warriors.
Alcuni: Il soccorso dimandato!
Some: The help demanded!
Altri: Han l'aspetto del valor!
Others: They have the appearance of valour!
Un grosso drappello di balestieri, in completa armatura, travesa il campo.
A big platoon of crossbowmen, in full armor, passes through the camp.
Tutti: Più l'assalto ritardato or non fia di Castellor.
All: More the assault delayed will not be of Castellor.
Ferrando: Sì, prodi amici; al dì novello è mente del capitan la rocca investir d'ogni parte. Colà pingue bottino certezza è rinvenir più che speranza. Si vinca; è nostro.
Ferrando: Yes, brave friends; To the next day is mind of the captain the fortress assault from all sides. There fat booty (This line is kind of awesome in that all translations sound really weird, but this one takes the prize)
is certainty more than hope. If victorious; it's ours.
Tutti: Tu c'inviti a danza! Squilli, echeggi la tromba guerriera, chiami all'armi, alla pugna, all'assalto; fia domani la nostra bandiera di quei merli piantata sull'alto. No, giammai non sorrise vittoria di più liete speranze finor! Ivi l'util ci aspetta e la gloria, ivi opimi la preda e l'onor.
All: You are invited to dance! Blare, echo the warrior trumpet, call to arms, to battle, to raid; be tomorrow our flag of those merlons be planted high. No, never before smiled for us victory with more delightful hope so far. There the gain awaits us, and the glory. There of a General the prey and the honor. (I originally completely forgot to translate that last line, so chibi-Kz3r0 did it for me.
)
Il conte uscito dalla tenda, volge uno sguardo bieco a Castellor.
The count leaves the tent, turns a sullen look to Castellor.
Conte: In braccio al mio rival! Questo pensiero come persecutor demone ovunque m'insegue! In braccio al mio rival! Ma corro, surta appena l'aurora, io corro e separarvi… Oh Leonora!
Count: In arms of mine rival! This thought like persecutour demon everywhere pursues me! In arms of mine rival! But I run, spout barely the aurora, I run to separate you… Oh, Leonora!
Odesi tumulto.
It is heard a tumult.
Conte: Che fu?
Count: What was? (i.e: What did happen?)
Ferrando: Dappresso il campo s'aggirava una zingara: sorpresa da' nostri esploratori, si volse in fuga; essi, a ragion temendo. Una spia nella trista, l'inseguir…
Ferrando: Near the camp was going around a gypsy: Surprised by our scouts, she turns to escape; they, a motive fearing, she a wretched spy, pursue her…
Conte: Fu raggiunta?
Count: Was she caught?
Ferrando: È presa.
Ferrando: She's held.
Conte: Vista l'hai tu?
Count: Have you seen her?
Ferrando: No; della scorta il condottier m'apprese l'evento.
Ferrando: No; by the escort's condottiere was I informed of the event.
Conte: Eccola.
Count: Here it is.
Tumulto più vicino. Detti, Azucena, con le mani avvinte, trascinata dagli esploratori, un codazzo d'altri soldati sua tenda seguito da errando.
Tumult all around. The aforementioned, Azucena, with hands tied, dragged by the scouts. A throng of other soldiers to the tent behind them wanders.
Esploratori: Innanzi, o strega, innanzi…
Scout: Advance, o witch, move forward…
Azucena: Aita! Mi lasciate… O furibondi che mal fec'io?
Azucena: Ay! Leave me… O, furious one, what evil have I done?
Conte: S'appressi.
Count: Approach.
Azucena è tratta innanzi al Conte.
Azucena is handed to the Count.
Conte: A me rispondi e trema dal mentir!
Count: Answer to me, and tremble about lying!
Azucena: Chiedi!
Azucena: Ask!
Conte: Ove vai?
Count: Where do you go?
Azucena: Nol so.
Azucena: I don't know.
Conte: Che?
Count: What?
Azucena: D'una zingara è costume muover senza disegno il passo vagabondo, ed è suo tetto il ciel, sua patria il mondo.
Azucena: Of a gypsy it is custom to take without design the wandering steps. And it is her roof the sky, her fatherland the world. (in the romance languages there are fatherlands, from the Latin
patria, instead of motherlands)
Conte: E vieni?
Count: And you come?
Azucena: Da Biscaglia, ove finora le sterili montagne ebbi a ricetto!
Azucena: From Biscaglia, where until now the sterile mountains have been refuge!
Conte: Da Biscaglia!
Count: From Biscaglia!
Ferrando, fra sè: Che intesi! O qual sospetto!
Ferrando, to himself: What do I understand! O, what do I suspect!
Azucena: Giorni poveri vivea, pur contenta del mio stato; sola speme un figlio vea… Mi lasciò! M'oblia, l'ingrato! Io deserta, vado errando di quel figlio ricercando, di quel figlio che al mio core pene orribili costò! Qual per esso provo amore madre in terra non provò!
Azucena: Poor days I lived, correctly content of my rank; only hope a son was… He left me! He forgets me, the ungrateful! Alone, I go roaming and for that son looking, for that son that to my heart a horrible sorrow did cost! Like that I show love no mother in earth did show!
Ferrando, fra sè: Il Suo volto!
Ferrando, to himself: Her face!
Conte: Di', traesti lunga etade tra quei monti?
Count: Say, have you been a long period in those mountains?
Azucena: Lunga, sì.
Azucena: Long, yes.
Conte: Rammenteresti un fanciul, prole di conti, involato al suo castello, son tre lustri, e tratto quivi?
Count: Do you remember a child, progeny of counts, stolen from his castle, since then three five years periods, (English doesn't seem to have a direct equivalent of Lustro/Lustrum, and neither
a decade and half nor
fifteen years fit with the general idea of keeping the original style as much as possible)
and brought there?
Azucena: E tu, parla… sei?
Azucena: And you, speak… are?
Conte: Fratello del rapito.
Count: Brother of the abducted.
Azucena: Ah!
Azucena: Ah!
Ferrando, notando il mal nascosto terrore di Azucena: Sì!
Ferrando, noticing Azucena's badly hidden terror: Yes!
Conte: Ne udivi mai novella?
Conte: Did you ever heard anything of this?
Azucena: Io? No… Concedi che del figlio l'orme io scopra.
Azucena: Me? No… Allow me to look for the footprints of the son.
Ferrando: Resta, iniqua…
Ferrando: Stay, wicked woman…
Azucena: Ohimè!
Azucena: Ay!
Ferrando, ai conde: Tu vedi chi l'infame, orribil opra commettea…
Ferrando, to the count: You see that who the vile, horrible work did…
Conte: Finisci.
Count: Continue.
Ferrando: È dessa.
Ferrando: It's her!
Azucena: Taci.
Azucena: Keep quiet.
Ferrando: È dessa che il bambino arse!
Ferrando: It is her who the child burned!
Conte: Ah! perfida!
Count: Ah, perfidious!
Coro: Ella stessa!
Chorus: She, herself!
Azucena: Ei mentisce…
Azucena: You have been lied…
Conte: Al tuo destino or non fuggi.
Count: To your fate now you will not escape!
Azucena: Deh!
Azucena: Whoopsie! (alright, take that as "Oh, god!" instead XD)
Conte: Quei nodi più stringete.
Count: Those knots make most tight!
I soldati eseguiscono.
The soldiers carry that out.
Azucena: Oh! Dio! Oh Dio!
Azucena: Oh! God! Oh, God!
Coro: Urla pure.
Chorus: By all means, scream.
Azucena: E tu non m'odi, o Manrico, o figlio mio? Non soccorri all'infelice madre tua?
Azucena: And you don't hear me, o Manrico, o my son? Will you not help this unhappy mother of yours?
Conte: Sarebbe ver? Di Manrico genitrice?
Count: Could it be true? Of Manrico the parent?
Ferrando: Trema!
Ferrando: Tremble!
Conte: Oh sorte! In mio poter!
Count: Oh fate! In my hands!
Azucena: Deh, rallentate, o barbari, le acerbe mie ritorte… Questo crudel supplizio è prolungata morte… D'iniquo genitore empio figliuol peggiore, trema! V'è Dio pei miseri, e Dio ti punirà!
Azucena: Ay, slow down, o barbarians, the harsh twisting of me... This cruel torment and prolonged death… Of vile parent the even more impious son, tremble! Cares God for the miserable, and God will punish you!
Conte: Tua prole, o turpe zingara, colui, quel traditore? Potrò col tuo supplizio ferirlo in mezzo al core! Gioia m'inonda il petto, cui non esprime il detto! Meco il fraterno cenere piena vendetta avrà!
Count: Your spawn, o filthy gypsy, him, that traitor? I could with your torment injure him right in the middle of the heart! Joy floods my chest, which can't be expressed in words! With me the brotherly cinders full revenge will have!
Ferrando, coro: Infame pira sorgere, ah, sì, vedrai tra poco… Né solo tuo supplizio sarà terreno foco! Le vampe dell'inferno a te fina rogo eterno; ivi penare ed ardere l'anima tua dovrà!
Ferrando, chorus: Dreadful pyre arise, ah, yes, you'll see soon… But your torment will not be just earthly fire! The flames of hell for you intense eternal pyre; There will suffer and burn your soul!
Al cenno del Conte i soldati traggon seco Azucena. Egli entra nella sua tenda, seguito da Ferrando.
With a gesture of the Count, the soldiers carry Azucena along. He goes into his tent followed by Ferrando.
Poor defenseless Azucena fell into the hands of the evil, twisted Count and is going to be painfully executed so that her captor can both avenge his late brother and enjoy making his rival suffer! Will Manrico leave his loving, kind, innocent mother to meet such a grizzly end at the hands of his enemy, or will our titular troubadour heroically ride out of Castellor, army of brave and manly singing soldiers in tow, to her aid? Do not miss the next scene of this riveting tale of hot blooded people with swords and really cool voices!
I'll try to make it super fasty fast but I will not promise anything, as every time I do promise to be quick and constant there ends up being a three months delay between an update and the next. :'(
06.06.2012: In the end they had to wait two or three months out of a combination of Star Trek Online and me getting obsessed with going to the gym. The general rule with me: If I say "I'll do this without doubt!" expect it not to be done until eveyone has given up hope, if at all.
Excellent work
.
Did you manage to resolve those copyright problems?
Thank you very much.
And if they try to give me more trouble I'll just edit the file until their little script can't detect it or just use the same method I did for the one file that was giving me trouble last time.
