La Donna È Mobile

The woman is mobile like a feather in the wind
He changes his accent and his thoughts
Always a lovely graceful face
In tears or in laughter, he is a liar
The woman is mobile like a feather in the wind
He changes his accent and his thoughts, and his thoughts
And, and of thought

Those who trust in her are always miserable
Whoever confides in her is not careful with his heart!
Yet I never felt fully happy
Whoever does not pour love onto that breast!
The woman is mobile like a feather in the wind
He changes his accent and his thoughts, and his thoughts
And, and of thought