After the Count orders Cherubino to leave and join the Seville regiment for being infatuated with the Countess, Figaro tells Cherubino with a rousing march that he must give up his easy life and his women and become a soldier.

Non più andrai, farfallone amoroso,
You won't go any more, amorous butterfly,

Notte e giorno d'intorno girando,
Fluttering around inside night and day,

Delle belle turbando il riposo,
Disturbing the sleep of beauties,

Narcisetto, Adoncino d'amor.
A little Narcissus and Adonis of love.

Non piu avrai questi bei penacchini,
You won't have those fine feathers any more,

Quel cappello leggiero e galante,
That light and jaunty hat,

Quella chioma, quell'aria brillante,
That hair, that shining aspect,

Quel vermiglio donnesco color!
That womanish red color [in your face]!

Fra guerrieri, poffar Bacco!
Among soldiers, by Bacchus!

Gran mustacchi, stretto sacco,
A huge moustache, a little knapsack,

Schioppo in spalla, sciabla al fianco,
Gun on your back, sword at your side,

Collo dritto, muso franco,
Your neck straight, your nose exposed,

Un gran casco, o un gran turbante,
A big helmet, or a big turban,

Molto onor, poco contante.
A lot of honour, very little pay.

Ed in vece del fandango
And in place of the dance

Una marcia per il fango.
A march through the mud.

Per montagne, per valloni,
Over mountains, through valleys,

Con le nevi, e i solioni,
With snow, and heat-stroke,

Al concerto di tromboni,
To the music of trumpets,

Di bombarde, di cannoni,
Of bombards, and of cannons,

Che le palle in tutti i tuoni,
Which, at every boom,

All'orecchio fan fischiar.
Will make bullets whistle past your ear.

Cherubino, alla vittoria!
Cherubino, go to victory!

Alla gloria militar!
To military glory!

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