Tormented by visions of flight and falling,
More wondrous and terrible each than the last,
Master Leonardo imagines an engine
To carry man up into the sun...

And he's dreaming the heavens call him,
Softly whispering their siren-song:
Leonardo, Leonardo, vieni à volare.
Leonardo, Leonardo, come fly.

L'uomo colle sua congiegniate e grandi ale,
facciendo forza contro alla resistente aria.

A man with wings large enough and duly connected
might learn to overcome the resistance of the air.

As the candles burn low he paces and writes,
Releasing purchased pigeons one by one
Into the golden Tuscan sunrise...

And as he dreams, again the calling,
The very air itself gives voice:
Leonardo, Leonardo, vieni à volare.
Leonardo, Leonardo, come fly.

Vicina all' elemento del fuoco...
Close to the sphere of elemental fire...

Scratching quill on crumpled paper
(Rete, canna, filo, carta.)
(Net, cane, thread, paper.)
Images of wing and frame and fabric fastened
tightly.
...sulla suprema sottile aria.
...in the highest and rarest atmosphere.

As the midnight watchtower tolls,
Over rooftop, street and dome,
The triumph of a human being ascending
In the dreaming of a mortal man.

Leonardo steels himself,
Takes one last breath, and leaps ....
Leonardo vieni à volare! Leonardo, sognare!
Leonardo, come fly! Leonardo, dream!