La traviata

It's long past the time you were invited for. You're late.

We've been playing cards at Flora's. Time flies when one's playing.

Flora, my dear friends, the evening

will be gayer now you're here.

Let's raise our glasses and enjoy ourselves.

- Can you enjoy the party? - I want to.

I put my faith in pleasure

as a cure for all my ills.

Yes, pleasure adds zest to life.

Alfredo Germont, dear lady,

is a great admirer of yours

and one of my most valued friends.

Thank you, Vicomte, for sharing such a gift.

- My dear Alfredo! - How are you, Marquis?

Didn't I tell you that friendship in this house joins hands with pleasure?

Is everything ready now?

Sit down, my dear friends,

and let's open our hearts to each other.

Well spoken! For wine is a friend that puts secret sorrow to flight.

Let's open our hearts to each other.

Alfredo thinks of nobody but you.

- You're joking. - When you were ill he came every day,

enquiring anxiously about you.

Be quiet!

- I'm nothing to him. - I'm telling you the truth.

Is it true? But why should you? I don't understand.

- Yes, it's true. - I'm very grateful to you.

You never did as much for me, Baron.

I've only known you a year.

He's only known me a few minutes.

You'd have done better to keep quiet.

- This young man annoys me. - Why?

I find him charming.

You haven't so much as opened your mouth yet.

It's the lady's privilege to loosen his tongue.

I'll be Hebe, who pours the wine.

May you be as immortal as she.

Let's drink.

Now, Baron, can't you find a verse, a toast

to mark this happy moment?

What about you?

Yes, yes, a drinking song.

The muse doesn't smile on me.

Command her, master!

Would it please you?

- Yes. - Yes?

I already have it in my heart.

- Listen, now... - Yes, let's hear the singer.

Let's drink from the joyous chalice

where beauty flowers.

Let the fleeting hour

to pleasure's intoxication yield.

Let's drink

to love's sweet tremors,

to those eyes that pierce the heart.

Let's drink to love, to wine

that warms our kisses.

Let's drink to love, to wine

that warms our kisses.

With you I would share my days of happiness.

Everything is folly in this world

that doesn't give us pleasure.

Let's enjoy life, for the pleasures of love are swift and fleeting

as a flower that lives and dies

and can be enjoyed no more.

Let's take our pleasure while its ardent,

brilliant summons lures us on.

Let's take our pleasure of wine

and singing and mirth

till the new day

dawns on us in paradise.

Life is just pleasure.

If one still waits for love...

I know nothing of that. Don't tell me.

But there lies my fate.

Let's take our pleasure of wine

and singing and mirth

till the new day

dawns on us in paradise.

- What's that? - Would you like to dance now?

Oh, what a pleasant thought! We all accept.

Let's go then. Oh!

- What's the matter? - Nothing, nothing.

Why do you linger?

Let's go.

- Oh, heavens! - Again!

- Are you ill? - Heavens! What's the matter?

I'm trembling. But go along.

I'll join you in a moment.

If you say so.

Oh, how pale I am!

You here!

Do you still feel upset?

I'm better now.

The way you're going on you'll kill yourself.

You should take more care of your health.

How can I?

Oh, if I only had the right

I'd be the most watchful guardian of your dear life.

What a thing to say!

Who cares what happens to me?

For no one in the world loves you...

- No one? - ...except for me.

That's true. I'd forgotten that grand passion.

You laugh.

But all the same, you have a heart.

A heart? Yes, perhaps.

Why do you ask?

Yet if you had you wouldn't make fun of me.

- Are you really serious? - I wouldn't deceive you.

Then how long have you loved me?

For more than a year.

One happy day

you flashed lightly into my life,

and since that day

I've lived in tremulous possession

of that unspoken love,

the pulse of the whole world,

mysterious,

mysterious, unattainable,

the torment and delight of my heart.

If that's true, then leave me.

Friendship is all I can offer you.

I don't know how to love. I couldn't feel so great an emotion.

I'm being honest with you, sincere.

You should look for someone else.

Then you wouldn't find it hard to forget me.

O love, mysterious,

- mysterious, unattainable, - Then you wouldn't find it hard

- the torment and delight of my heart. - to forget me.

Well now? What the devil are you up to?

- We're talking nonsense. - Ha, ha! Splendid! Go on.

So no more about love. Is that a promise?

I'll do as you say. I'll go.

So it's come to that already?

Take this flower.

- Why? - So you can bring it back to me.

When?

When it's withered.

You mean... tomorrow?

Very well, tomorrow.

I'm so happy-

Do you still say you love me?

How much, how much I love you!

You're going?

I'll go now.

- Goodbye, then. - I ask for nothing more.

Good bye.

The dawn is breaking in the sky and we must take our leave.

Thank you, dear lady, for such a splendid party.

The town is still revelling.

Pleasure rolls on its way.

In slumber we'll again store up

the zest for another night of joy.

How strange it is, how strange!

Those words are carved upon my heart.

Would a true love bring me misfortune?

What do you think, O my troubled spirit?

No man before kindled a flame like this.

Oh, joy I never knew:

to love and to be loved!

Can I disdain this

for a life of sterile pleasure?

Was this the man my heart,

alone in the crowd, delighted many times

to paint in vague, mysterious colours?

This man, so watchful yet retiring, who haunted my sickbed

and turned my fever into the burning flame of love.

That love,

the pulse of the whole world,

mysterious, unattainable,

the torment and delight of my heart.

It's madness!

It's empty delirium!

A poor, lonely woman,

abandoned

in this teeming desert they call Paris.

What can I hope for? What should I do?

Enjoy myself. Plunge into the vortex of pleasure

and drown there.

Free and aimless I must flutter from pleasure to pleasure,

skimming the surface of life's primrose path.

As each day dawns, as each day dies,

gaily I'll turn

to the new delights that make my spirit soar.

Love,

love is the pulse

- of the whole world, - Oh, love!

Mysterious, unattainable,

the torment and delight of my heart.

It's madness!

Pleasure!

Free and aimless I must flutter from pleasure to pleasure,

skimming the surface of life's primrose path.

As each day dawns, as each day dies,

gaily I'll turn

to the new delights that make my spirit soar.

Love is the pulse of the whole world...

There's no pleasure in life when she's away.

It's three months now