Sidùn
Fabrizio De AndréVersione inglese di Riccardo Venturi | |
SIDON | SIDON |
My little boy, mine oh mine, fat lips in the sun, of honey, of honey. Sweet benign tumor of your mother, squeezed from the damp mugginess of summer, of summer, and now blood clotted ears and milk white teeth. | My baby, oh my baby, my baby, My own baby His fleshy ruby lips in the honey sun Sweet benign tumour of your mom Squeezed in this wet, sultry, sultry summer And now, a clot of blood, ears and milk teeth |
And the eyes of the soldiers, rabid dogs with foaming mouths, lamb hunters following people like game for as long as the wild blood has not spent its desire. And after the iron in the throat, the irons of the prison, and in the wounds the spiteful seed of deportation so that from our line, from the plain to the pier, no more can grow tree nor spike nor son. | And the eyes of soldiers, like mad dogs, who hunted the lambs with foam at the mouth and chased people like game until they quenched their wild bloodthirst And after the bars into the throat, the bars of jail, And in the wounds, the poisonous seed of deportation So that nothing of us, trees, spikes or children, May grow any more from the plain to the seashore. |
Goodbye my child, my heritage is lost in this city that burns, that burns in the evening that descends, and in this great light from the fire for your little death. | Goodbye, my baby, our heritage is hidden in this city that is burning, is burning in the evening drawing near and in this great fire light for your little death. |