Leaving Don Giovanni

 

91 in Turkey, 117 in Germany, 236 in France

Maid or lady, young, old

The list goes on

He had them all, and wanted more

 

Number 24, the summer of our youth

Tall, blond and from Norway

Like the nobleman’s conquests,

I, too, naïvely, gave my all

 

Donna Anna, Donna Elvira, and Zerlina

I get your pain and anger

A virility that seduces, he believes his love to be true

Alas, the one he loves is himself, not me nor you!

 

But all of me was not enough

Just more than he could handle

So off he went, or, just continued

Wanting more, wanting all.

 

Like his comical brother

His baritone voice boasts:

Non mi pento! Non mi pento!

Conscience has a price, you see

 

So, I take my leave

From the Don who had it all

Lest he die the scorching death

Of his pathetic comrade

 

Non mi pento…

As I walk out the door

Non mi pento

As I, too, want more.