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Fabrizio De André: Creuza de mä [Crêuza de mä]

GLI EXTRA DELLE CCG / AWS EXTRAS / LES EXTRAS DES CCG
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La versione inglese di Bocephus King
COBBLED SEA PATH

Shadows of faces, faces of sailors,
where do you come from, where is it you’re going?
From a place where the moon shows itself naked
and the night has pointed a knife at our throat,
and God remains to mount the donkey
and the Devil is in heaven and makes his nest there,
we come in from the sea to dry out at Andrea's place,
at the fountain of the doves in the stone house.

And in the stone house, whoever will be there
in Andrea's house who isn’t a sailor -
people of Lugano, faces like pickpockets,
those who prefer the wing of the sea bass,
family girls, smelling good,
whom you can watch without condoms.

And to these empty stomachs, what will he give them?
Things to drink, things to eat,
fried fish, a white Portofino,
lamb brains in the same wine,
four-sauce lasagna to cut,
sweet and sour hare-of-the-tiles pie.

And in a boat of wine we’ll navigate the perils,
emigrants of laughter with nails in our eyes,
until the morning grows to be able to gather him up,
brother of the cloves and of the girls,
master of the rope, rotten from water and salt
that binds and carries us on a cobbled sea path.
CRÊUZA DE MÄ

Shadows of these faces, faces of the sea
Wherever do you come from, where soon will you be?
In a land where the moon dances all the night naked
And with a knife sharp and sacred, brings us all to our knees
Riding the mule now only God is left
The devil is in heaven where he's built a nest
We leave the sea for Andrea's where we'll dry out our bones
Near the fountain in the stone house that is Andrea's home

Wayundye

In Andrea's kitchen, who will we know?
A sailor from a voyage many years ago?
And at the people of Lugano the pickpocket grins,
he thinks the best part of the sea bass is the tail and the fin
And girls from good families, they smell like coffee and spring…
Without fear of disease, you can hear them all sing

Wayundye

What should we give to these starving souls?
To fill their glasses and to fill their bowls?
A plate of fried fish and Portofino wine...
And maybe lamb's brain cooked in that very same wine
Lasagne from the kitchen, about four layers deep...
Roof rabbit cooked in sauce: both sour and sweet

Wayundye

Now in the drunken boat we'll navigate the rocks,
Nails in our eyes and we don't use the clocks
Harvest the morning when it's good and time
And down these crooked narrow stairs we wind
You know, this old rotten rope can guide you and me,
we can follow it down this path to the sea
This old rotten rope, with its wind-blown scars,
we can follow it down this Crêuzä de Ma


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