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Amália Rodrigues: Triste Sina

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La Fougère, Bergères Légères, Maman dites-moi

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Beethoven: String Quartet nº. 8 In E Minor, Op. 59/2 Rasumovsk (2/4)

Écorchée vive

Tormented soul. If she
allowed me to talk. She
cannot hear. It hurts, true?
She loved me so fast.
And a big disorder. Ugh!
I was afraid. Almost.

She was frightened.
I saw it in her face.
Her eyes closing.
I saw it. Frightened.

But what a joy in her pain.
Her smile. In her sadness.
Nobody never. Not that way.
She couldn't stand it. No.
In pain. Deep pain. Deep.
Happy. Deep happiness.

Later she run away.
She knew. Everything.
I knew too. Didn't I?

I am not courageous.
I feared rejection.
She would not understand.
I did did shut shut my mouth.

Later thought about it.
Nonsense. I did pity her.
How can people? Never mind.

No contempt though.
I can forgive, it's easy.

Let me be your father
and your brother and
your lover. No? You
wouldn't need anyone
else. Never more.

I didn't say it. Did not think
it. Way of talking.

Oh, the family.
Nostalgia. Regrets.

Love as pure as cold water.
In the lake, in the mountain.

I understand too easily many things.

I sympathize with those who do not love me.
Some…

O Soave Fanciulla (Sung in French) Enrico Mazei and Lily Pons