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Deportees

Woody Guthrie
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OriginalTraducanzone di Andrea Buriani
DEPORTEES

The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting
The oranges are packed in the creosote dumps
They're flying you back to the Mexico border
To pay all your money to wade back again

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

My father's own father, he waded that river
They took all the money he made in his life
My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees
They rode the big trucks till they lay down and die

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

The skyplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon
A fireball of lightning, and it shook all the hills
Who are these comrades that died like the dry leaves
The radio tells me they're just deportees

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

We died in your hills and we died in your deserts
We died in your valleys we died on your plains
We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes
Both sides of the river we died just the same

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

Some of us are illegal, and others not wanted
Our work contract's out and we have to move on
But it's six hundred miles to that Mexican border
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit
To fall like dry leaves and rot on the top soil
and be called by no name except "deportee"

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees
DEPORTATI

Finito è il raccolto, le pesche andate,
le arance stipate conservate così.
In aereo riportati verso il noto confine
pagheranno salato per passare al di là.

Goodbye Giovanni Goodbye Rosalita
Addio miei amici Jesus e Maria
dei vostri bei nomi da allora privati
or voi siete per tutti i “ deportati”.

Mio nonno guadò con fatica il gran fiume
d’una vita gli presero i soldi sudati
fratelli e sorelle al lavor son venuti
e han fatto la fine dei frutti caduti.

Ci chiaman “clandestini” ci dicon “non voluti”
Seicento miglia da qui al confine
in tasca soltanto cotratti scaduti
e voi ci cacciate come ladri o banditi.

Siam morti nei vostri deserti ed alture
Siam morti sui monti e nelle vostre pianure.
Cercate nei boschi, tra quelle radici
sulle rive dei fiumi, noi siamo là.

L'areo impazzito, i motori incendiati
sul Canyon Los Gatos la meteora tuonò.
Qual foglie disperse lì attorno ammucchiati,
la radio allor disse : son sol deportati.

Non potrebbero essere più belli questi orti,
né più rigogliosi i nostri frutteti.
Con foglie secche li abbiam concimati,
non ha nome il concime se non “deportati”.


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