IT
ZACCARIA
Oh chi piange? di femmine imbelli
chi solleva lamenti all'Eterno?
Oh sorgete, angosciati fratelli,
sul mio labbro favella il Signor!
Del futuro nel bujo discerno …
ecco rotta l'indegna catena! …
Piomba già sulla perfida arena
del leone di Giuda il furor!
EBREI
Oh futuro!
ZACCARIA
A posare sui crani, sull'ossa
qui verranno le jene, i serpenti,
fra la polve dall'aure commossa
un silenzio fatal regnerà!
Solo il gufo suoi tristi lamenti
spiegherà quando viene la sera …
niuna pietra ove sorse l'altiera
Babilonia allo stranio dirà!
EBREI
Oh qual foco nel veglio balena!
Sul suo labbro favella il Signor!
Sì, fia rotta l'indegna catena,
già si scuote di Giuda il valor!
ZACCARIA
Niuna pietra ecc.
ENZaccariaOh who's crying? of fake femaleswho raises complaints to the Lord?Oh rise up, anguished brothers,Mr. on my lips favors!Of the future in the dark discernment ...the unworthy chain is here! ...Piomb already on the perfidious arenaof the lion of Judah the fury!
JEWSOh future!
ZaccariaTo pose on the skulls, on the bonehere will come the jene, the snakes,between the poles with a touched auraa fatal silence will reign!Only the owl his sad lamentationswill explain when the evening comes ...no stone where the highland roseBabylon to the stranger will say!
JEWSOh what a fire in the venous whale!Mr. on your lips favors!Yes, the unworthy chain is broken,the value is already shaken by Judas!
ZaccariaNiuna stone etc.

Où va le jeune Indoue,Fille des Parias,Quand la lune se joueDans les grands mimosas?Quand la lune se joueDans les grands mimosas?Elle court sur la mousseEt ne se souvient pas
Que partout on repousseL’enfant des parias.Elle court sur la mousse,L’enfant des parias;Le long des lauriers roses,Rêvant de douces choses,Ah!
Elle passe sans bruitEt riant à la nuit à la nuit!Là-bas dans la forêt plus sombre,Quel est ce voyageur perdu?Autour de lui des yeux brillent dans l’ombre,
Il marche encore au hasard éperdu!Les fauves rugissent de joie,Ils vont se jeter sur leur proie
La jeune fille accourt et brave leurs fureurs,
Elle a dans sa main la baguetteOù tinte la clochette, où tinte la clochetteDes charmeurs.(imitant la clochette)Ah! ah! ah!L’étranger la regarde,Elle reste éblouie,Il est plus beau que les Rajahs!Il rougira s’il sait qu’il doit la vieA la fille des parias.Mais lui, l’endormant dans un rêve,Jusque dans le ciel il l’enlève,En lui disant: ta place est là!C’était Vishnou, fils de Brahma!Depuis jour au fond des bois,Le voyageur entend parfoisLe bruit léger de la baguetteOù tinte la clochette,Où tinte la clochetteDes charmeurs.(imitant la clochette)Ah! ah! ah!

Where will the young Indian girl,daughter of the paraiahs,go when the moon dancesIn the large mimosas trees?She runs on the mossAnd does not rememberThat she is pushed aroundThe child of outcasts;Along the oleanders,Dreaming of sweet things, Ah!She goes without noiseAnd laughs a night.There in the dark forestWho is the lost traveler?Around himEyes shining in the darkness,He wonders randomly, aimless and lost!The wild beasts roar of joy,They will pounce on their prey,The girl runs to himAnd braves their furyShe has in her hand the batonwith tinkle bell charms!The stranger looks at her,and remains dazzled.She is more beautiful than the Rajahs!He will blush if he knows he must owehis life to the daughter of the pariahs.But they fall asleep and drift into a dream,Up in the sky, they are transported,The traveler tells her: 'your place is here!'It was Vishnu, son of Brahma!From that day on, in the depths of the dark forest,a traveler may sometimes hearthe slight noise of the batonwith the tinkle bell charms!