View allAll Photos Tagged Champex
Champex Lac et Le Grand Combin . Canton of Valais , Switzerland. .Izakigur 14.11.18, 11:10:18.
Merci Claudine !
Champex and the Grand Combin at Autumn time 2018. Canton Of Valais. Switzerland. izakigur 14.11.18, 12:37:27 no. 568.
Merci Lulu...ü!
"(L'elisir d'amore)(One tear that falls so furtively)
Una furtiva lagrima
Negl'occhi suoi spunto:
Quelle festose giovani
Invidiar sembro.
Che piu cercando io vo?
Che piu cercando io vo?
M'ama, si m'ama, lo vedo, lo vedo.
Un solo instante I palpiti
Del suo bel cor sentir!
I miei sospir, confondere
Per poco a' suoi sospir!
I palpiti, I palpiti sentir,
Confondere I miei coi suoi sospir
Cielo, si puo morir!
Di piu non chiedo, non chiedo.
Ah! Cielo, si puo, si puo morir,
Di piu non chiedo, non chiedo.
Si puo morir, si puo morir d'amor.
Synopses
Nemorino is in love with a wealthy girl, but she says she isn't interested in poor boys like him. Desperate, he buys a "Love potion" that only turns out to be cheap red wine. And yet, Nemorino believes the "Elixir" will work. When he sees her cry, he knows she has fallen for him at last.
English translation
One tear that falls so furtively
From her sweet eyes has just sprung,
As if she envied all the youths
Who laughingly passed her right by.
What could I want more than this?
She loves me! I see it.
One moment just to hear her heart,
Beating so close next to mine,
To hear my sighs like they were hers,
Her sighings as if they were mine!
Heavens, please take me now:
All that I wanted is mine now! "
"Une larme furtive
A surgi dans ses yeux...
Elle semblait envier
La jeunesse en fête...
Que désirer de plus ?
Elle m'aime, je le vois.
Pour un instant, sentir les battements,
Les battements de son cœur.
Mêler bientôt à ses soupirs les miens...
Je ne demande rien de plus, rien !
Ah, ciel ! Après, on peut mourir !"
L'elisir d'amore / Donizetti.
114
Camera :Nikon D200 Lens17.0-55.0 mm f/2.8
Creator : izakigur@mac.com
Arthur RIMBAUD
1854 - 1891
Sensation
"Par les soirs bleus d'été, j'irai dans les sentiers,
Picoté par les blés, fouler l'herbe menue :
Rêveur, j'en sentirai la fraîcheur à mes pieds.
Je laisserai le vent baigner ma tête nue.
Je ne parlerai pas, je ne penserai rien :
Mais l'amour infini me montera dans l'âme,
Et j'irai loin, bien loin, comme un bohémien,
Par la Nature, - heureux comme avec une femme."