Musetta! O joy of my abode!
Is it then true that you are now far away?
Is it then true that I have just driven you
away,
and that I will never hold you to
my ehart again?
Adored head, no more will you return
to rest happy on my pillow!
White little hands that I warmed on my heart,
no more will my lips be able to kiss you!
Merry songs of the days of love,
your echo has already flown far away.
The room is silent and my bereaved heart
mourns in tedium those lost days!
Those lost days!
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