Butterfly

همهمه...سکوت...ويولون اول و بعد همه ی ارکستر...چقدر صدای شروع ارکستر را دوست دارم...و پس از آن دو ساعت و نيم موسيقی, آواز و احساس...I’m overwhelmed...C’est tout...جای همه خالی...

Butterfly.... در خانه ای بر فراز تپه ای مشرف به دريا ايستاده است و چند سال است که انتظار عشقش را می کشد که با کشتی خود بر ساحل لنگر بياندازد و به پيش او باز گردد, همه به او طعنه و سرکوفت می زنند, ولی او دست از رويا برنمی دارد...

One good day, we will see
Arising a strand of smoke
Over the far horizon on the sea
And then the ship appears
And then the ship is white
It enters into the port, it rumbles its salute.

Do you see it? He is coming!
I don't go down to meet him, not I.
I stay upon the edge of the hill
And I wait a long time
but I do not grow weary of the long wait.

And leaving from the crowded city,
A man, a little speck
Climbing the hill.
Who is it? Who is it?
And as he arrives
What will he say? What will he say?
He will call Butterfly from the distance
I without answering
Stay hidden
A little to tease him,
A little as to not die.
At the first meeting,
And then a little troubled
He will call, he will call
"Little one, dear wife
Blossom of orange"
The names he called me at his last coming.
All this will happen,
I promise you this
Hold back your fears -
I with secure faith wait for him.