Klama (Andramu pai)

Franco Corlianò

Originale	Versione inglese di Riccardo Venturi
KLAMA (ANDRAMU PAI)	LAMENT OF THE EMIGRANT'S WIFE [My Husband Is Leaving]
Telo na mbriakeftò.. na mi' ppensefso, na klafso ce na jelaso telo artevrài; ma mali rràggia evò e' nna kantaliso, sto fengo e' nna fonaso: o andramu pai!	I'll get drunk so that I cannot think, Tonight I want to cry and laugh And I'll sing my pain with great anger And cry to the moon: My husband is leaving!
Fsunnìsete, fsunnìsete, jinèke! Dellàste ettù na klàfsete ma mena! Mìnamo manechè-mma, diàike o A' Vrizie Ce e antròpi ste' mas pane ess'ena ss'ena!	Wake up, oh wake up, women! Come and gather and cry with me! Now we're alone and St. Brizio's feast is gone, and the men are leaving one by one.
E antròpi ste' mas pane, ste' ttaràssune! N'arti kalì 'us torùme ettù s'ena chrono! è' tui e zoì-mma? è' tui e zoì, Kristè-mu? Mas pa' 'cì sti Germania klèonta ma pono!	Yes our men are leaving and we're alone! If all is well, we'll meet them again in a year! Is this our life? Is this a life, my God? They go to Germany crying with pain!
Mara 's emena, ttechùddhia itta pedàcia Torù to tata mia forà to chrono: - Tata, jatì ste' klei? Ene o A' Vrizio! Kuse ti banda, kuse ti òrrio sono!	Poor me, and poor are these kids! They see their father only once a year. Why are you crying, daddy? It's St. Brizio's feast, Listen to the band, listen, what a beautiful sound!
-Ste kuo ti banda ce ste kuo itto sono, steo ettù ma 'sà ce ste penseo sto treno, penseo sto skotinò citti miniera pu polemònta ecì peseni o jeno!	I can hear the band, can hear the music I am here with you, yet I'm thinking of the train, too. I'm thinking of that mine and its darkness Where poor people die working so hard.
-Tata, jatì e' nna pai? Pemma, jatì -Jatì tui ene e zoì, mara pedìa: O ttechùddhi polemà ce tronni na lipariasi 'us patrunu m'utti fatìa!	Daddy, why must you go? Tell me, why? Because this is life, my poor kids. The poor have to work and sweat their life To fatten up the masters with their toil.
Mara 'semà, dellaste ettù pedìa, dellaste, ngotanizzome ttumèsa; o tata pirte ce 'mì prakalume na ftasi lion lustro puru ja 'mà!	How poor we are! Come here, children, Come here and kneel down to the ground! Daddy's gone and we cannot but pray For a little light to come for us one day.