Va' Pensiero

From the Opera "Nabucco"

by Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901)
Verdi's first successful opera, Nabucco (Nebuchadnezzar), was written in 1842.
It relates the Biblical story of the captivity of the Hebrews in Babylon in the
6th century B.C.
In the opera, the chorus "Va, pensiero" (a paraphrase of Psalm 137) is sung by t
he exiles on the banks of the Euphrates, lamenting the loss of their homeland.
The piece soon became a popular anthem for the Italian people, expressing their
own longing for political freedom from Austria.
When Verdi's coffin was carried to its final resting place a month after his dea
th in 1901, the crowd of over 25,000 people along the route spontaneously began
singing this stirring chorus.
Va', pensiero, sull'ali dorate.
Va', ti posa sui clivi, sui colli,
ove olezzano tepide e molli
l'aure dolci del suolo natal!
Del Giordano le rive saluta,
di Sionne le torri atterrate.
O mia Patria, sì bella e perduta!
O remembranza sì cara e fatal!
Arpa d'or dei fatidici vati,
perché muta dal salice pendi?
Le memorie del petto riaccendi,
ci favella del tempo che fu!
O simile di Solima ai fati,
traggi un suono di crudo lamento;
o t'ispiri il Signore un concento
che ne infonda al patire virtù
Translation:
Fly, thoughts, on wings of gold;
go settle upon the slopes and the hills,
where, soft and mild,
the sweet air of our native land smells fragrant!
Greet the banks of the Jordan
and Zion's toppled towers.
Oh, my country so lovely and lost!
Oh, memory so dear and despairing!
Golden harp of the prophetic seers,
why do you hang mute upon the willow?
Rekindle our heart's memories and speak of times gone by!
Mindful of the fate of Jerusalem,
either sound a song of sad lamentation,
or else let the Lord give us the strength to bear our sufferings!
Another translation:
Va Pensiero
Va, pensiero, sull'ali dorate; Go, my thoughts on golden wings;
Va, ti posa sui clivi, sui colli Go, settle on the cliffs and the hills.
Ove olezzano tepide e molli, Where the sweet breezes bring
L'aure dolci del suolo natal! The warm, soft fragrances of the native land.
Del Giordano le rive saluta, From Jordan, the river of salvation, and
Di Sionne le torri atterrate. From the desolate towers of Zion.
Oh, mia patrie si bella e perduta! Oh my homeland so beautiful and lost!
Oh, Membrenza si cara e fatal! Oh memories, so dear and so lethal.
Arpa d'or del fatidici vati, Golden Harps of our prophets and poets,
Perché muta dal salice pendi? Why do you hang silently from the willow?
Le memorie nel petto raccendi, You awaken the dreams of the heart
Chi favella del tempo che fu! Which speaks of the time which was!
O simile di Solima ai fati Either like Solomon to the fates,
Traggi un suono di crudo lamento, you make a sound of crude lament.
O t'ispiri il Signore un concento Or the Lord inspires in you a song
Che ne infonda al patire virtu! Which takes courage into the depths.