Musetta! O joy of my home!
Is it therefore true that you are far away now?
Is it therefore true that I have driven you away
just now,
and that I do not have you on my heart will I hold
never again?
Adored head, you will never return again
happy on my pillow to rest!
Little white hands that I warmed on my heart,
more than my lips he will not be able to kiss you!
Gay songs of days of love
your distant echo has already fled.
The room is silent and my widowed heart
cries in tedium those lost days!
Those lost days!

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