Ernani! Ernani! Ernani!

Night has fallen,
and Silva is not back!
Ah, would that he never returned!
This detestable old man,
who like a foul spectre
always pursues me
with talk of love,
implants Ernani
ever deeper into my heart.
Ernani, Ernani, bear me away
from that abhorred embrace.
Let us flee: if love permits
me to live with you,
through caves and desolate wastelands
my footsteps will follow you.
Those grottoes will be
an Eden of delight to me, etc.
I despise everything that does
not speak of Ernani to my heart,
there is no jewel that can transform
hatred into love.
Ah!
Fly, o time, and bring soon
the joyful moment of my flight;
fly, o time, to my loving heart
delay is torment.