Surte è la notte... Ernani! Ernani, involami - Ernani - Verdi (Amsterdam, 1959)
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.