When your fingers take control of the strings,
Laura, I am at the same time turned into a lifeless statue
And a spirit outside of its body as I stand there.
You command both death and life,
You are powerful, like [Jacob] Philadelphia
Demanding a thousand souls woven from nerves!

They are more gentle as they show homage, those rustling
Breezes, so that they can listen to you;
Welded to the song
The eternal turmoil stands still,
Breathing in the fullness of joy,
Listening nature is quiet.
Sorceress! You use notes, in the same way
That you use glances on me, to control them.

Soulful harmonies are bursting out,
A voluptuous impetuosity
Comes out of [the]1 strings, like
Newborn Seraphim coming out of their heaven;
As, having escaped the giant arms of Chaos,
Driven away by the storm of creation, the suns
Went off shining out of the night,
Similarly the magical power of the notes streams forth.

Lovingly now, as over smooth pebbles
Silver-bright waters trickle,
Now majestically splendid,
Like the tone of an organ, like thunder,
Pouring down now, as if over a cliff,
Like rushing, frothing torrents, rolling,
Suddenly a beauteous murmuring,
Flatteringly gentle,
Like seductive winds blowing through
Aspen woods,
Heavier now, and more serious and melancholy,
Like terrifying night whispering through dead wastelands
Where lost howling souls wander,
Where Cocytus drags its waves of tears.

Girl, speak! I beg you, let me know:
Are you in league with higher spirits?
Don't lie to me, is that the language
That they speak in Elysium?