Here where the sea sparkles,
and a strong wind blows,
on an old terrace overlooking the gulf of Sorrento,
a man holds a little girl in his arms
after he's been crying.
He clears his throat and sings the song again.

I love you so much;
so very much, you know.
It's a bond, now,
you know, that thaws the blood in the veins.

He looked at the lights, out at sea,
and thought about the nights in America.
But they were only the lamps of fishing boats
and the white of wake.
He felt the pain of the music.
He got up from the piano,
but when he saw the moon come out from behind the clouds
death seemed sweeter to him.
He looked into the little girl's eyes -
those eyes as green as the sea,
then suddenly a tear fell
and he thought he was drowning.

I love you so much;
so very much, you know.
It's a bond, now,
you know, and it thaws the blood in the veins.

The power of opera!
where every drama is a sham;
where, with a little bit of make-up and mimicry,
you can become someone else.
But two eyes that look at you,
so close and so real,
make you forget the script,
confounding your thoughts.
And so everything became insignificant,
including the nights in America.
You look back and see your life
like the wake [of the boats].
Ah yes! Life is ending,
but he wasn't worried about it any more.
Instead he felt happy
and began to sing the song again.

I love you so much;
so very much, you know.
It's a bond, now,
you know, that thaws the blood in the veins.