ÖÐÎçÐÝÏ¢Õâ¸÷ÖÖÃÀµÄÉÁ¹â,
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ÊÇ×ØÉ«Í··¢µÄ¹ÃÄï,
ÄãÃÀÀöµÄÄ°ÉúÅ®ÀÉ,
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ÍÐ˹¿¨ÑÛ¾¦ºÚÁÁ!
Õâ¾ÍÊÇÒÕÊõµÄÃØÃÜ,
Ëü°Ñ²»Í¬µÄÃÀÀöºÏÔÚÒ»Æð:
»Ä°ÉúÅ®ÀɵÄʱºò,
ÎÒÊÇÒ»Ö±ÔÚÏëÄã,
ÎÒµÄÐÄÀïÖ»ÓÐÄã!
ÍÐ˹¿¨ÎÒ°®Äã!
Recondita armonia di belleze diverse!...
E bruna Floria, l'ardente amante mia.
E te, beltade ignota, cinta di chiome bionde!
Tu azzuro hai l'occhio, Tosca ha l'occhio nero!
L'arte nel suo mistero le diverse belleze insiem confonde:
ma nel ritrar costei il mio solo pensiero,
ah! il mio solo pensier, sei tu, Tosca, sei tu!
What strange and lovely harmony of such different beauties!
How dark is Floria, this ardent love of mine.
And you, mysterious beauty, long and blond flowing tresses
how your eyes are sky-blue, Tosca's eyes are black-night.
Art, too, with its many mysteries, blends all together
such different beauties. But though I paint another,
my only thought is you, oh, my only thought is you,
Tosca, is you, is you!
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