Netrebko Flirts with Rodolfo, Falls in Love with Me
He imagines himself an artist, le bohème,
but the moment the candle uncovers
her face the truth is what’s illuminated.
Ever so Russian, she toys with her possum;
feeds him cascading curls, black-magic eyes,
lets him drink in the cream of her skin
until hunger is all that’s left of him.
And by the time Act II arrives, she has
his heart in knots and bows. Then comes
Act III and Donde lieta uscì. Rodolfo thinks
there’s hope for him yet, but she’s already
caught my eye. Yes me, in the mezzanine,
two rows back, her viscount in disguise.
In a moment’s glance, all is shared, that’s how
love sometimes goes. It’s only time before
she coughs and dies, yet hardly dead
in our bed before tomorrow’s show.