Ah, what is this voice that troubles my spirit?
Is it Hell that speaks or Heaven that warns me?
No! happiness is not there, oh cursed voice,
And against my pride my love has armed me;
Glory is not worth the happy shade whence invites me
The house of my beloved.
Miracle.
What loves can now be yours,
Hoffman sacrifices you to his brutality,
He only loves in you your beauty,