Ma dall'arido stelo divulsa

Aprile Millo (born April 14, 1958) is an American operatic soprano of Italian and Irish ancestry who is particularly admired for her interpretations of the works of Giuseppe Verdi. Possessing a spinto voice of power, warmth and temperament, Millo became one of the most celebrated opera singers of the late twentieth century. Although she has performed at many of the world's leading opera houses and with many orchestras and ensembles internationally, Millo has spent much of her career appearing in productions at the Metropolitan Opera. Aprile Millo was born in New York City, the daughter of two opera singers, tenor Giovanni Millo (John Hamill) and soprano Margherita Girosi. Millo became interested in music at an early age and received her musical education primarily from her parents. Millo is noted for the beauty of her voice and her nuanced interpretation. On April 4, 1986, Donal Henahan wrote in the New York times of Millo's performance in Don Carlo: "Miss Millo sounds more and more like the Verdi soprano we've been waiting for." Later in 1986 (June 18), reviewing a Metropolitan Opera production of Aida in Central Park, Mr. Rockwell wrote, "Miss Millo has a real Verdi sound...her darkly yet delicately colored lower voice, full of urgency in the phrasing, and her overall mastery of this role from a technical and interpretive standpoint, are already very moving. Her performance reached its high point just where it must, in the third act, when Aida grows from a supplicating ingenue into a woman torn by her conflicts. With singing like this, nothing could dull the intensity of Verdi's drama. The concert formality, the populist setting, the amplification, all fell away in the face of real operatic drama embodied in song. If Mr. Domingo and Mr. Pavarotti can match that in the next two parks openers, the Met and its fans will be fortunate indeed."...

Lyrics & English Translation

Here is the dreadful field where
death is matched with crime!
There are the gallows . . .
The plant is there, it spreads green at the foot. Let me approach.
Ah, my heart freezes!
Even the sound of my own footsteps, everything here
fills me with horror and dread!
And if I must die?
To die! Very well, since it is my fate,
such is my duty, let it be fulfilled, and so be it.

[She is about to proceed.]

But when that herb
has been torn from the dry stem by my hand,
and when in my feverish mind
that heavenly image dies,
what remains to you, once love is lost . . .
what remains to you, my poor heart!
Ah! Who is weeping, what force holds me back?
Does the bleak path hinder me?
Come, courage . . . and be made of stone,
do not betray me, cease from tears;
or cease beating and die,
be annihilated, my poor heart!

[A bell is heard striking the hour.]

Midnight! . . . Ah, what do I see? A head
rises from under the ground . . . and groans!
Its eyes flash with anger
and it stares at me and is terrifying!

[She falls to her knees.]

Please guide me, help me, o Lord,
have mercy on a poor heart!


A link to this wonderful artist's personal website:

Please Enjoy!

I send my kind and warm regards,