Una Macchia (Lady Macbeth)
Una Macchia – Macbetto (Verdi). (1)
Una macchia è qui tuttora!
Via, ti dico, o maledetta!
Una due gli è questa l’ora!
Tremi tu? Non osi entrar?
Un guerrier così codardo?
Oh, vergogna! Orsù, t’affretta!
Chi poteva in quel vegliardo
Tanto sangue immaginar?
Di Fiffe il sire sposo e padre or non era?
Che ne avvenne?
E mai pulire queste mani
Io non saprò?
Di sangue umano sa qui sempre.
Arabia intera rimondar sì piccol mano
Co’ suoi balsami non può.
Ohimè! I panni indossa della notte!
Or via, ti sbratta!
Banco è spento,
E dalla fossa chi mori non surse ancor.
A letto, a letto…Sfar non puoi la cosa fatta.
Batte alcuno!
Andiam, Macbetto, non t’accusi il tuo pallor.
Una Macchia. 2007. Oil on Canvas. 48 x 36 inches.
LADY MACBETH (2)
31 Yet here’s a spot.
Doctor
32 Hark! she speaks. I will set down what comes
33 from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more
34 strongly.
LADY MACBETH
35 Out, damned spot! out, I say!—One: two: why,
36 then, ’tis time to do’t.—Hell is murky!—Fie, my
37 lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we
38 fear who knows it, when none can call our power
39 to account?—Yet who would have thought the old
40 man to have had so much blood in him?
Doctor
41 Do you mark that?
LADY MACBETH
42 The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now?—
43 What, will these hands ne’er be clean?—No more o’
44 that, my lord, no more o’ that: you mar all with
45 this starting.
Doctor
46 Go to, go to; you have known what you should
47 not.
Gentlewoman
48 She has spoke what she should not, I am sure
49 of that; heaven knows what she has known.
LADY MACBETH
50 Here’s the smell of the blood still. All the
51 perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this
52 little hand. O, O, O!
Doctor
53 What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely
54 charg’d.
Gentlewoman
55 I would not have such a heart in my bosom
56 for the dignity of the whole body.
Doctor
57 Well, well, well.
Gentlewoman
58 Pray God it be, sir.
Doctor
59 This disease is beyond my practise; yet I
60 have known those which have walked in
61 their sleep who have died holily in their beds.
LADY MACBETH
62 Wash your hands, put on your nightgown;
63 look not so pale.—I tell you yet again, Banquo’s
64 buried; he cannot come out on’s grave.
Doctor
65 Even so?
LADY MACBETH
66 To bed, to bed! there’s knocking at the gate:
67 come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What’s
68 done cannot be undone.—To bed, to bed, to bed!
Exit Lady.
Credits
(1) Aria-Database
