Fila la lana
Fabrizio De AndréLa versione inglese di Dennis Criteser [2014] | |
SPIN YOUR WOOL In the war of Valois the Lord of Vly died, whether he was a brave hero it remains still unknown. But her abandoned Lady mourning upon his death thousand years and maybe more will be mourning her sad fate. Spin your wool, spin your memories cherish the illusion that he comes back book of so sweet love dreams, open your pages to her sorrow. And they came back by thousand, all the warriors of Valois, they came back to their families, to their palaces and cities. But the abandoned Lady will not welcome back her sweetheart and the big log in the fireplace will not help warm her heart. Spin your wool, spin your memories cherish the illusion that he comes back book of so sweet love dreams, open your pages to her sorrow. You the knights, who ignore while fighting fear and dread, tighten well your coat of mail, temper well your suit of armour. To the enemy who attacks you give a swift and quick reply, because someone, behind those walls, is waiting for you every moment. Spin your wool, spin your memories cherish the illusion that he comes back book of so sweet love dreams, close your pages upon her sorrow. | SPIN THE WOOL In the war of Valois the Seignior of Vly died. Whether he was a valiant hero is unknown, it’s still not certain. But the woman left abandoned lamenting his death, for a thousand years, maybe more, will mourn his sad destiny. Spin the wool, spin your days, keep fooling yourself that he might return. Book of sweet dreams of love - open the pages to its sorrow. They returned by the hundreds and by the thousands, the warriors of Valois. They returned to their families, to their palaces, to their cities. But the abandoned woman won’t find her love again, and the big log in the fireplace will be of no use for warming her heart. Spin the wool, spin your days, keep fooling yourself that he might return. Book of sweet dreams of love - open the pages to its sorrow. Knights who in battle ignore the fear, may your chain mail be tight, your armor well-tempered. To the enemy who assaults you be ready to give riposte, because behind those walls you’re awaited without cease. Spin the wool, spin your days, keep fooling yourself that he might return. Book of sweet dreams of love - close the pages on its sorrow. |