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HARLES MARTEL (ON HIS WAY BACK FROM THE BATTLE OF POITIERS)
This is the translation of "Carlo Martello" done by Riccardo Venturi (rventuri@sysnet.it) and posted
to the Italian Newsgroup dedicated to Fabrizio De Andrè.
The Italian language used in the original song is a very old-style and Riccardo does have tried to give that idea also in English.
Here I've just
inserted the Italian version for an easy listening and comprehension.
_________________________________
Da: Riccardo Venturi <0586885875@iol.it>
Oggetto: De Andrè in inglese (2)
Data: martedì 5 ottobre 1999 15.55
_______________________________
CHARLES MARTEL (ON HIS WAY BACK FROM THE BATTLE OF POITIERS)
Re Carlo tornava dalla
guerra
lo accoglie la sua terra
cingendolo d'allor
al sol della calda primavera
lampeggia l'armatura
del sire vincitor
Kynge Charles was on Hys Way backe
from War,
His Countree welcometh Hym
Wreathynge Hym with Laurel,
In this most warme of Springes
The
braue Victor's Armowr
Doth shyne in the Svn.
il sangue del principe del Moro
arrossano il ciniero
d'identico color
ma più che del corpo le ferite
da Carlo son
sentite
le bramosie d'amor
The Kynges Helmet was stayned
With the red Blvde of bothe
The Prynce and the Moor;
Now, it is Love's Lvst that maketh
Charles svffer greater Payne
Than Hys bodilie Woundes.
"se ansia di gloria e sete
d'onore
spegne la guerra al vincitore
non ti concede un momento per fare all'amore
chi poi impone alla sposa soave di castità
la cintura in me grave
in battaglia può correre il rischio di
perder la chiave"
"Alas! War doth quench the Winner's Thyrste of Glory
And doth appease Hys Longyng for Honowre,
Yet He hath noe fuckynge Chaunce of makynge Loue,
Then, he who imposeth the Chastitie Belte
On Hys swete Spovse, he may well rvn the Riske
Of loosynge the Keye when the Battle is ragyng!"
così si lamenta il Re cristiano
s'inchina intorno il grano
gli son corona i fior
lo specchi di chiara
fontanella
riflette fiero in sella
dei Mori il vincitor
Thvs is complainyng the Christian Kynge,
Encirclyd bye swete Flowers
Whyle wheat boweth at Hym;
The Mirror of a clear Sprynge of Water
Reflecteth the Prowd Victor
Well
saddlyd on Horsses Back.
Quand'ecco nell'acqua si compone
mirabile visione
il simbolo d'amor
nel folto di lunghe trecce bionde
il seno si confonde
ignudo in pieno sol
So suddenlie doth appeare in the Water
A wonderfvlle Ymage,
Lyke a Symbol of Loue,
Betwyxte her
longe, fayre Braydes
Her naked Breastes do bothe
Shyne in the warme Svn.
"Mai non fu vista cosa più bella
mai io non colsi siffatta
pulzella"
disse Re Carlo scendendo veloce di sella
"De' cavaliere non v'accostate
già d'altri è gaudio quel che cercate
ad altra più facile fonte la sete calmate"
"No fayrer Ymage haue I neuer sene!
Noewhere is svch a fayre maiden to bee met!"
Saide Kyng Charles dismountyng
qvicke fro's Steed;
"Ye prowde Knyghte, I warne Ye!
An other Man doth enjoye mine Beautie.
Ye shoude quench Yowre Thyrste
to an easyer Sprynge!"
Sorpreso da un dire sì deciso
sentendosi deriso
Re Carlo s'arrestò
ma più dell'onor potè il digiuno
fremente l'elmo bruno
il sire si levò
Surprysyd by svlche sharpe Wordes
And feelynge laughëd at
Kynge Charles hee did stop;
But
Hunger hadde more Powre on Hym than Honovr,
And tremblyng dyd the Kynge
Slippe Hys Helmet off.
codesta era l'arma sua segreta
da Carlo spesso
usata
in gran difficoltà
alla donna apparve un gran nasone
e un volto da caprone
ma era sua maestà
This was the Kynges secret Weppyn
That
Charlen so oftyn vsed
When He sawe noe Waye throvgh:
A big Nose apperyd to the Mayden,
And then a Goates Face,
But He was Her Majestee.
"Se voi non foste il mio sovrano"
Carlo si sfila il pesante spadone
"non celerei il disio di fuggirvi lontano,
ma poiché siete
il mio signore"
Carlo si toglie l'intero gabbione
"debbo concedermi spoglia ad ogni pudore"
"Yf Ye were not my Kynge and Loverd",
-Charles taketh off Hys heauye Sworde-
"I woude not hyde my Desyre of takynge to mine Heels;
Bvt as Ye are my Sovereygn
Liege,"
-Charles slyppeth off Hys armowr so bryghte-
"I wulle yielde my selffe withovtten Shame."
Cavaliere egli era assai valente
ed anche in quel frangente
d'onor si ricoprì
e giunto alla fin della tenzone
incerto sull'arcione
tentò di risalir
The Kynge was a valyaunte Knyghte:
He dyde deserue all Honowrs
In that Situacyoun too;
And when he had finisshyd Hys Dvtie
He tryde so
vncertaynlie
To get on Hys Horsse agayne.
veloce lo arpiona la pulzella
repente la parcella
presenta al suo signor
"Beh proprio perché voi siete il sire
fan
cinquemila lire
è un prezzo di favor"
The Mayden dyd stoppe Hym at once
And a Bill handyd shee
Svddenlie to Her
Majestee:
"Good, jvst 'coz Ye are my Lorde and Kynge,
Ye owe me fyue Powndes,
And 'tis a specyal
Pryce."
"E' mai possibile o porco di un cane
che le avventure in codesto reame
debban risolversi tutte con grandi puttane,
anche sul prezzo c'è poi da ridire
ben mi ricordo
che pria di partire
v'eran tariffe inferiori alle tremila lire"
"Howe can ytt bee, the Lorde damne ytt alle,
That all adventures in
thys gracyous Kyngedome
Ende vp regvlarlie wyth payinge a Whore?
Damn, their Billes too are incresyd greatlye:
I can remember
that beffore I lefte
Three Powndes were a fayrlye acceptable Pryce!"
Ciò detto agì da gran cialtrone
con balzo da leone
in sella si lanciò
frustando il cavallo
come un ciuco
fra i glicini e il sambuco
il Re si dileguò
Then he prouyd to bee a Mother fvcker,
and He got on Hys Stede
As qvicke as Lyghtenynge;
Whyppynge the poor Horsse to Deathe
Among Wisteriae and Elders
The Kynge
dyd disappeare.
Re Carlo tornava dalla guerra
lo accoglie la sua terra
cingendolo d'allor
al sol della calda primavera
lampeggia l'armatura
del sire vincitor
Kynge Charles was on Hys Way backe from War,
His Countree welcometh Hym
Wreathynge Hym with Laurel,
In this most warme of Springes
The braue Victor's Armowr
Doth shyne in the Svn!
> Riccardo Venturi
<0586885875@iol.it>
> Er muoz gelîchesame die leiter abewerfen
> So er an îr ûfgestigen ist (Vogelweide)
> MAILTO: rventuri@sysnet.it
ROSEMOUTH (Bocca di Rosa)
This is the translation of "Bocca di Rosa" done by
Riccardo Venturi (rventuri@sysnet.it) and posted to the Italian Newsgroup dedicated to Fabrizio De Andrè.
Here I've just inserted the Italian version for an easy listening and comprehension.
_________________________________
Da: Riccardo Venturi <0586885875@iol.it>
Oggetto: De Andrè in inglese (1)
Data: martedì 5 ottobre 1999 15.55
_____________________________
ROSEMOUTH (Bocca di Rosa)
La chiamavano bocca di rosa
metteva l'amore, metteva l'amore,
la chiamavano bocca di rosa
metteva l'amore sopra ogni cosa.
They call'd her Rosemouth,
She did put love, she did put love
They call'd her Rosemouth,
She
did put love above all things.
Appena scese alla stazione
nel paesino di San Vicario
tutti si accorsero con uno sguardo
che non si trattava di un missionario.
No
sooner had she arrived
To the station of Sant'Ilario
When ev'rybody realized at first sight
She was no missionary at
all.
C'è chi l'amore lo fa per noia
chi se lo sceglie per professione
bocca di rosa né l'uno né l'altro
lei lo faceva per passione.
Someone makes
love out of boredom,
Someone chooses it for one's job;
Neither of the two things for Rosemouth:
She made love out of
passion.
Ma la passione spesso conduce
a soddisfare le proprie voglie
senza indagare se il concupito
ha il cuore libero oppure ha moglie.
But, as you know, passion
often leads
To gratifying one's own lust
Without enquiring if he, who's lusted after
Is still free or a married man.
E fu
così che da un giorno all'altro
bocca di rosa si tirò addosso
l'ira funesta delle cagnette
a cui aveva sottratto l'osso.
So, hearken! With her deed and
actions
Did Rosemouth arouse day by day
Grapes of wrath of the little puppies
She kept on stealing their bones from.
Ma
le comari di un paesino
non brillano certo in iniziativa
le contromisure fino a quel punto
si limitavano all'invettiva.
But the wives of a small village
Aren't so cute, as you may suppose:
Up to that time their only reaction
Was hurling insults at Rosemouth.
Si sa che la
gente dà buoni consigli
sentendosi come Gesù nel tempio,
si sa che la gente dà buoni consigli
se non può più dare cattivo esempio.
You know that people give good advice
Feeling as Jesus Christ in the Temple,
You know that people give good advice
If they can't set a bad example.
Così una
vecchia mai stata moglie
senza mai figli, senza più voglie,
si prese la briga e di certo il gusto
di dare a tutte il consiglio giusto.
So, and old woman still unmarried,
Without children, without any lust,
Took the trouble, and, I'm sure, the pleasure
To give all 'em a right piece of
advice:
E rivolgendosi alle cornute
le apostrofò con parole argute:
"il furto d'amore sarà punito-
disse- dall'ordine costituito".
So, she
addressed with witty words
All that bunch of deceived wives:
"This love stealth shall be punished",
She said, "By
the Police Force".
E quelle andarono dal commissario
e dissero senza parafrasare:
"quella schifosa ha già troppi clienti
più di un consorzio alimentare"
And they all went to the Police Station
And shouted without weighing their words:
"That bitch already got more clients
Than a farmer's cooperative."
E arrivarono quattro gendarmi
con i pennacchi con i pennacchi
e arrivarono quattro gendarmi
con i pennacchi e con le armi.
So four gendarmes, four gendarmes came
With plumed hats, with plumed hats,
So four gendarmes, four gendarmes came
Well armed, with their plumed hats.
Il cuore tenero non è una dote
di cui sian colmi i carabinieri
ma quella volta a prendere il treno
l'accompagnarono
malvolentieri.
You know policemen aren't renowned
For having tender heart, for sure;
But that time they took her to the
train
Not so willingly, I assure.
Alla stazione c'erano tutti
dal commissario al sagrestano
alla stazione c'erano tutti
con gli occhi rossi e il cappello in
mano,
All male villagers were there, including
The Police Chief and the sexton,
All male villagers were there
With weeping eyes, bearing placards
a salutare chi per un poco
senza pretese, senza pretese,
a salutare chi per un poco
portò l'amore nel paese.
To say goodbye and bon voyage
To Rosemouth, who for short time
Without pretension, without pretension
Had brought love into that village.
C'era un cartello giallo
con una scritta nera
diceva "Addio bocca di rosa
con te se ne parte la primavera".
Someone had written in black
On a yellow placard:
"Goodbye, goodbye, Rosemouth!
Spring is
leaving us with you."
Ma una notizia un po' originale
non ha bisogno di alcun giornale
come una freccia dall'arco scocca
vola veloce di bocca in bocca.
But a piece of news like that
Needs no newspaper, as you may suppose:
Just like an arrow flung by a good bowman
It spread so rapidly in the wind
E alla stazione successiva
molta più gente di quando partiva
chi mandò un bacio, chi gettò un fiore
chi si prenota per due ore.
So, at the next station there were
Much more people than when she had left:
One blows her a kiss, one throws flowers,
One books her for a couple of hours.
Persino il parroco che non disprezza
fra un miserere e un'estrema unzione
il bene effimero della bellezza
la vuole accanto in
processione.
Even the Priest, not disregarding
Among burials and extreme unctions
The short-lived pleasure of beauty,
Wants her to follow the procession.
E con la Vergine in prima fila
e bocca di rosa poco lontano
si porta a spasso per il paese
l'amore sacro e l'amor profano.
With Our Lady in the front row
And Rosemouth just behind
The priest is walking through the village
With both profane and sacred love!
> Riccardo Venturi <0586885875@iol.it>
> Er muoz gelîchesame die leiter abewerfen
> So er an îr ûfgestigen ist
(Vogelweide)
> MAILTO: rventuri@sysnet.it
Da: WakkoWarner <Loderingo@yahoo.com>
Oggetto: Re: [ENG] 8: "Titus' Will" (Il Testamento di
Tito)
Data: martedì 18 gennaio 2000 22.09
FCh ha scritto nel messaggio <85v2dk$12s$1@pc1.spin.it>...
>Excuse me, can you, please, repost the corrected translation?
>sso' ttroppo
pigrooo!!! :)
Io non ho fatto una mia versione, pero' posso postarti quella che Riccardo
ha inviato come sua temporaneamente definitiva:)
First, Thou shalt have no God but Me.
Often this
thing made me think
Different people, come from the East
said that it was just the same
Though they believ'd in a different god,
they haven't done me no harm
Though they believ'd in a different
god
No harm have they done to me.
Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord,
The name of thy God, in vain.
Nay, when a dagger did pierce my side
I cried out my pain and His Name;
But maybe
He was busy, or maybe too tired
And did not hear all my pain,
Thou shalt honour thy Father and Mother,
Thou shalt honour their stick, too,
And kiss the hand that broke your nose
>That
time you asked them for food
When my father's heart ceased to beat
I did not feel pain at all
When my father's heart ceased to beat
I did not feel pain at all.
Thou shalt hallow the Lord's holy
days,
'twas easy for a thief like me
To get into temples resounding with psalms
Of slaves, of their masters and all;
Yet I've never laid bound to an altar in chains
To be slaughter'd like a
sheep,
Yet I've never laid bound to an altar in chains
To be slaughter'd like a sheep.
Fifth commandment: Thou shalt not steal,
And this must I have kept, for sure,
When I cleanëd out the pockets
and purses
Of many an authorised thief,
But I was an outlaw and robb'd in my own name,
The others, in the name of the Lord,
But I was an outlaw and robb'd in my own name,
The others, in the name of
the Lord.
Thou shalt not commit impure acts,
>That is, do not waste your semen
Get a woman pregnant anytime you love her,
>and you will be faithful to God
Then lust disappears and the child
remains
And many do starve by hunger;
I've often confused my pleasure with love
But I have created no sorrow.
Seventh commandment: Thou shalt not kill
Otherwise, you won't deserve Heaven
If
you want heaven deserve;
Well, see how this holy Commandment of God
Was nail'd thrice to a wooden cross;
Look at this Nazarene dying in pain
And a thief's dying the same death,
Look at this Nazaren
dying in pain
And a thief's dying the same death.
Thou shalt not bear false witness, yes,.
Help them though to kill a man
They know by heart all of God's Law
But always forget their
forgiveness;
I've sworn false by God and my honour
But I can feel no remorse,
I have sworn false by God and my honour
But, nay, I can feel no remorse.
Thou shalt not covet other people's
things,
Nor lust after another man's wife;
Go tell it to those most lucky of men
Who do have a woman and wealth,
In other men's beds, still warm with love,
I did not feel remorse,
Yesterday's
envy isn't all over yet
Today I envy you your life.
But now that the evening is drawing near
Washing the pain from my eyes)
And the sun is sliding down beyond the dunes
To violate other
nights,
I'm looking, mother, at this dying man,
Mother, I'm now feeling grief,
Moved to pity not yielding to grudge
Mother, I am learning to love.
Dovrebbe essere questa, grosso modo, la versione
aggiornata. Ciao
WW
Da: Riccardo Venturi <0586885875@iol.it>
Oggetto: "The Fisherman": Errata Corrige
Data: sabato 8 gennaio 2000 18.04
Come segnalatomi da Geordie (e dico poco...:-)), dalla mia
traduzione
del "Pescatore" mancava la strofa coi gendarmi.
Ecco quindi la traduzione completa:
__________________________________________________________
THE FISHERMAN (Il Pescatore)
In the uncertain shadow of sunset
A Fisherman was dozing off,
His face was streak'd all along
With something
just like a smile.
A man came running to the shore,
His eyes so big, just like a child's,
His eyes were fill'd with pain and fear
As if reflecting some adventure.
He ask'd the old man for some
bread,
"I am in haste and am so hungry";
He ask'd the old man for some wine,
"I am so thirsty and am an outlaw."
The old man he did open his eyes
Without e'en looking 'round
himself;
He simply gave his bread and wine
To a man who was so thirsty and hungry.
No longer than one instant's warmth,
Then he fled away in the wind;
Before his eyes the sun was
shining,
Behind his back, an old man sleeping.
Behind his back, an old man sleeping
And memories of pains endur'd,
Memories of a past springtime
In a yard, playing in the shadow.
Two
gendarmes came dressed in arms,
Well mounted on their horses' back;
They ask'd the old man if he'd seen
Someone pass by him on the shore.
In the uncertain shadow of sunset
A Fisherman was dozing
off,
His face was streak'd all along
With something just like a smile
His face was streak'd all along
With something just like a
smile.
______________________________________________________
> Riccardo Venturi <0586885875@iol.it>
> Er muoz gelîchesame die leiter abewerfen
> So er an îr ûfgestigen ist
(Vogelweide)
> MAILTO: rventuri@sysnet.it
|
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DISAMISTADE (Disamistade)
The Walkabouts
What are these persons doing
In front of the church,
These divided people
This suspended story
An arm's line to weigh
That it's the distance of the offence,
Peace is conceived
While the peace is barely grazed
Two families without blood
Draw up in surrender
And for all those involved
Pain is shed, the others' pain is half their own
The war of the heart is content,
Content with empty causes,
The lament of a dog
Struck down by the shadow of a step,
Satisfied with a brief agony
Along the street of the house,
An eruption of blood,
An absence prepared for a meal
And with the shots of the hunters around him
One begs for one's fortune.
What are our daughters doing
Embroidering and sewing,
All these stains of moaning
Who have given up to love
Amid them it still hides
A wandering hope
That the enemy desires,
Desires to be returned
His own hands gathering at
The others' touch in other hands,
There must be another way of living,
Of living without pain
A rush of eyes into eyes
Only to discover that instead
It's only the pause of the wind,
It's only hatred by half
And to the authorities is dedicated too,
Too the missing half.
This Disamistade is opposed
To our misadventure,
To this race of time to dishevel
Our own fate and fortune.
What are these persons doing
In front of the church,
These divided people
This suspended story
(thanks to Ric. Venturi for the writing)
[fabrizio] (FDA/Eng) Wolftail Inviato: 02/04/2004 16:39
Wolftail
When
I was a child I fell in love with everything, I ran after dogs
and from March to February my grandpa watched over
the stream of horses and cows,
over my affairs and your affairs:
and never believe in the
god of the English
And when I was two hundred moons old, maybe more, maybe less,
I stole my first horse and they made me into a man
I changed my name into Wolftail,
I changed my poney for a dumb
horse
and never believe in their losing god
It fell about in the night of the long-tailed star,
we found grandpa crucified on the church,
crucified with forks that are used for dinner,
he was
dirty and clean with blood and with cream
and never believe in their greedy god
I was eighteen or so and didn't smell of snake anymore
I had an iron bar a hat and a sling
and one gala soirée,
with a sharp-edged stone
I killed a tuxedo and stoled it to him
and never believe in the Scala god
Then we came back to Brianza to open buffalo shooting
they made us breath and urine tests,
we
were explained the thing by an Andalusian poet,
"for buffalo shooting", said he, "there's numerus clausus"
and never believe in a happy end god
I was already old when near Rome,
in Little Big Horn,
a short-haired general made us a college speech
on our brothers in blue overalls burying their war axes
but we didn't smoke with him, he didn't come in peace
and never believe
in a working-hard god
And now that I've burnt twenty children on my marital bed
that I vented my wrath upon a whole studio
that I learnt to fish with hand grenades
that I was graved in tears on
the Arch of Trajan,
with a glass spoon I will dig in my story,
but I strike somewhat at random, my memory's gone
and never
and never
and never believe,
and never believe in a breathless
god.
R.Vent., 1700 Fribourg/Freiburg (Confoederatio Helvetica)
[fabrizio] (FDA/Eng) Talking abo Inviato: 02/04/2004 15:54
Talking about the shipwreck of London Valour
The cocaleaf-like sailors sit and rest on deck
the captain wears a necklove expressly shipped from England
the confectioner of Rome Street is
going downstairs
every twelve stairs he finds a hand to tread upon
hiding a toy whip under his teatime suit
And the ship's transceiver is a crystal ball
saying the wind's going to turn into a
wolf and the sea into a jackal
the paralytic keeps a cobalt-blue sparrow in his pocket
he laughs with his eyes at the Togni circus
when the acrobat misses his somersault
And the anchors have lost
their wager and their claws
the seagull egg sailors fall down on the rocks
the methodist poet has rose thorns in his legs
to make peace with applauses to feel more distant
his sun is setting since
he's won the weightlifting contest
And with a tongue smack a cable is launched from ashore
stealing the captain's love twisting about her waist
the silk-handed butcher has chosen a
battlename
he keeps nine antiguerrilla jaws wrapped is his fridge
he's got a bullet-proof apron between the Daily News and his waistcoat
And the confectioner the poet the paralytic and his
plaid
they all met on the wharf with crossword puzzle smiles
to sip the captain who shot himself in the eyes
and to forget him in the afternoon with his pipes and his check
and they smelt one another
united in understatement and action
against wrecks and revolutions of any kind possible
and the silk-handed butcher distributed ammunition
R.Vent., 1700 Fribourg/Freiburg (Confoederatio
Helvetica)
PASSERS-BY (Le Passanti)
This song is for any
woman
Who's been thought of with love, anytime
In an instant of
wand'ring thoughts:
For her, whom you just saw one time
You hadn't
time, yet you were longing
For spending hundred years beside her.
For
her, who disappear'd so quickly
That you almost had to imagine her
moving
From a balcony to a secret room;
And you like to remember her
smiling
-She wasn't smiling but in your own mind,
And your
happiness's fading away.
For your long-lost fellow trav'ller,
Her eyes were so beautiful a landscape
That your travel did not seem so
long;
No other man could better understand her,
Yet she got off, and you
did not follow her,
Nor did you even touch her soft hand.
For all them,
who are not free
And spend their life, in sad disenchantment,
With a man
who has changed too much;
They let you reach - o nonsense, o folly!
The
highest peaks of melancholy,
Of hopeless desperation.
O, images! O,
happy daydreams of one instant!
So soon you will disappear in a crowd
And
be replac'd with fresh memories;
However happy you may be now or later
You won't recall, or recall but seldom
All what you have seen on your
way.
But if you don't find comfort any more
In life, you will not
forget so easily
The happiness you once perceiv'd;
All the sweet
kisses, you durst not give to her,
All the sweet hopes, now vanish'd in the
air,
All the eyes you've seen no more.
You will then feel how
solitude's bitter,
And you will learn the practice of regret,
A way of
letting your own life flow by;
You will regret the lips and the eyes
Of all
beautiful passers-by
Whom you could not make stay...
*
HAIL TO THEE, MARY (Ave Maria)
So Thou art walking, Mary, among the crowd
Gathering 'round when
Thou passest them through,
And Thou art not so bother'd by their looks,
Now that Thou wilt become a mother, soon.
Thou know'st, Thou wilt be crying in one
hour,
Then Thou wilt hide Thy smile with Thy hand;
The borderline bewtixt
joy and pain
On Thy bright face is so uncertain.
Hail to Thee, Mary!
Thou'rt a Woman, now;
Hail to all Women, Mary, hail to them!
They're women for one day, for a new love,
Be he rich, poor, humble or the
Saviour.
Women for one day, then mothers forever
In that long season
indifferent to seasons.
*
MY SWEETHEARTS (Misamour)
(XIV Century Traditional / D.
Arneodo)
Fabrizio De André, voice
Franco Mussida: classic
guitar
Devi Arneodo, voice
Sae monie bonny pines i' my father's
yard,
Sae monie bonny pines i' my father's yard,
My father's
yard, my sweethearts, i' my father's yard
O quayle bonie quayle whare's thy
nest?
O quayle bonie quayle whare's thy nest?
Whare's thy nest, my
sweethearts, whare's thy nest?
'Tis nae up o' the mountain, 'tis in the
plain,
'Tis nae up o' the mountain, 'tis in the plain,
'Tis
in the plain, my sweethearts, 'tis in the plain.
O quayle bonie quayle what is
therin?
O quayle bonie quayle what is therin?
What is therin, my
sweethearts, what is therin?
Four bonie lasses an' wi' me they wad be
five,
Four bonie lasses an' wi' me they wad be five,
They wad be
five, my sweethearts, they wad be five.
The ane gaes aifter water, thaither aifter
wine,
The ane gaes aifter water, thaither aifter wine,
Gaes aifter wine, my
sweethearts, gaes aifter wine.
Anither lulles us a' to quyete
sleip,
Anither lulles us a' to quyete sleip,
To quyete sleip, my
sweethearts, to quyete sleip.
Ile tak my cross-bowe, wull slay them
a',
I strucke my true luve an' I slew her
An' I slew her, my
sweethearts, an' I slew her.
Gin I gae thro' the toune I wull be
hang'd,
Gin I wad cross the Roune, I wad be drown'd,
I wad be
drown'd, my sweethearts, I wad be drown'd.
*
FATHER'S SONG
(Canzone del padre)
"Do you want to leave to your own eyes
Only dreams that won't awaken you?"
"Yes, Your Honour, but I want greater ones."
"There's a place, there, left by your father.
You'll only have to stand on the bridge
And observe the other ships sailing by;
You lead the smallest ones to the river,
The biggest ones, they know where to sail."
So, I have turned into my father
I had killed in a previous dream;
The Honourable Court did give me trust:
The same motive for my release and my crime.
And now Bert, the laundress's son,
A schoolmate of mine, is learning to count
On cricket's antennae, and he never
Blows soap bubbles when he wants to play.
He was burying his mother in a wm-dump
Wrapp'd up in a sheet, like a true heroine;
He stopp'd one moment and told the Almighty one
To keep on minding His own business.
So, he fled away for fear of going rusty,
Yesterday's news report he's rusted to death;
Sextons often pick up rusty splinters
'mong people who let themselves be shower'd by rain.
I've invested my money and my affection,
A bank and a family do give safe incomes;
I discuss about love with my wife,
Our distance does not involve each other's fear.
Takin' her's gettin' harder and harder,
Men come, there's one who's leaner than the others
With a suitcase and with two passports,
Her eyes show she's so eager to talk.
Fuck, I pay the police just for this,
Her eyes show she's my woman, damn it!
The lean man's hands are always in motion,
Trinkets 'n' a travel order I saw in his case.
His face is no more that of a new drug addict,
He's my youngest son, incidentally born;
He stumbles over his own worn out rags,
He doesn't even get up if he falls to the ground.
All my alibis, they're catching fire,
Guttuso's painting still to be expertised;
Now even my bed is envelop'd in flames,
These are dreams that won't make me awaken.
Your Honour, you're a son of a bitch,
I wake up suddenly and dripping with sweat;
Wait for me, now, to jump out of this nightmare,
We'll meet again, next time it won't be any dream.
*
GIRLS IN THE NARROW LANE (Via del Campo)
There's a girl
in the narrow lane,
Her eyes, so big and green as leaves,
All the night
long stands on the threshold,
Always off'ring you the same rose.
There's a beauty in the narrow lane,
Her lips, so pale as pale's a
dewdrop,
Her eyes, so grey as grey's the pavement,.
Out of her steps,
there come out flowers.
There's a whore in the narrow lane,
Her
eyes, so big and green as leaves,
If you want her love, then you only
Have
to gently take her by the hand.
You think you are going far away
She
looks at you with a bright smile,
You won't believe that paradise
Is
just upstairs at the first floor.
A fool goes to the narrow lane
To
tell her, o, please, marry me!
To watch her going up the stairs
Till the
balcony door is closed.
Laugh and love if love it does answer,
Cry
aloud if it does not hear you,
Nothing grows out of precious diamonds,
Out
of dung, the flowers do grow,
Nothing grows out of precious diamonds,
Out of dung, the flowers do grow.
LOVE COMES, LOVE GOES (Amore che vieni, amore che vai)
So many days
we spent, after the wind running
Asking for one kiss, yet longing for one
hundred,
One day or another they'll come to your mind,
You once fled
away, you'll come back again,
One day or another they'll come to your
mind,
You once fled away, you'll come back again.
And you, with
your eyes of a different colour,
You, who do tell me love words in the same
way
One month, one year will pass, and you will not stay,
You who tell me I
love you, from me you'll flee away,
One month, one year will pass, and you will not
stay,
You who tell me I love you, from me you'll flee away.
You
came with the sun; on cold shores you did freeze
I lost you in November or with a summer
breeze,
I have never lov'd you, I'll love you for ay,
O love ever
coming, you'll ever go away,
I have never lov'd you, I'll love you for
ay,
O love ever coming, you'll ever go away.
*
SHOLDE IC FYR BEON (S'i' fosse
foco)
Sholde ic fyr beon, þe weoreld wolde ic brennen,
Sholde ic wind
beon, wið stormes him wolde ic swepen,
Sholde ic water beon, him wolde ic yerne
drounen
Sholde ic God beon, to helle him wolde ic senden.
Sholde ic þe
Pope, so wold ic in myrþe leven
Alle Christiantë wolde ic so bigilen,
Sholde ic Emperoure, wistu hwat ic don wolde,
Allen wolde ic þe heafed yerne
sliten.
Sholde ic þe deað, wold ic gon to mine faðer,
Sholde ic þe
live, fram him wolde ic fleon,
And al þe lice wolde ic fleon fram mi
moðer;
Sholde ic Franssys, as ic eam and ic was
Yunge bealtë wolde ic
yerne kepen,
And oðren olde and foule wolde ic yeven!
*
SONG OF LOVE LOST (Canzone dell'Amore
Perduto)
Spring flowers did bloom, you remember,
Along with our
words,
"We shall never part, my love, never, my love..."
And
these same words I'd like to tell you, now,
But just like roses withering in the space of one
day
Our love is lost...
Our love it is over, now, nothing is left
except
Unwillingly giving each other a caress
With vanishing
tenderness...
And when you will come upon those flowers,
So long ago
wither'd away, in the sun of time past,
You will regret them...
But
'twill the first one whom you'll come across in the street
That you'll cover with gold for a kiss you haven't given
yet,
For the renewal of love...
And 'twill the first one whom
you'll come across in the street
That you'll cover with gold for a kiss you haven't given
yet,
For the renewal of love.
*
THE RIGHT SEASON FOR YOUR LOVE (La stagione del tuo
amore)
The right season for your love
Is not springtime any
more
But the sweetness of your sunset
Shines on you, in your fall
days
If, one morning, you should find
A white snowflake in your
hair
I will come and pluck a snowdrop
From the garden of your
love.
Time goes by and never stops
But you have nothing to
fear:
Seems it runs like the wind
But time goes so slowly
by.
And just like in your spring days
You cry and smile, smile and
cry,
All your joys and all your pains
In one hour you'll feel
again.
Time goes by and never stops
But you have nothing to
fear:
Seems it runs like the wind
But time goes so slowly
by.
And just like in your spring days
You cry and smile, smile and
cry,
All your joys and all your pains
In one hour you'll feel again.
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