One fine day, we will see
a wisp of smoke rising
from the farthest edge of the sea.
And then the ship will appear.
Then the white ship
enters the harbor,
rumbling its greeting.

Do you see? He has come!
I won't go to meet him. Not me.
I will stand there on the edge of the hill and wait,
and wait for a long time
and it doesn’t weigh on me,
the long wait.

And out of the city crowd,
a man, a tiny speck
makes his way up the hill.
Who could it be? Who could it be?
And how will he have arrived?
What will he say? What will he say?
He will call Butterfly from afar.
I, without answering
will remain hidden
a bit for fun
and a bit so I don't die
at the first encounter;
and he, somewhat anxious
will call, will call:
"Little wifey,
scent of verbena"
the names he used to call me when he came.

All this will happen,
I promise you.
Hold onto your fear,
I await it with unwavering faith.

Maria Callas - Madame Butterfly - HD