Ma mi
Giorgio Strehler| Original | Versione inglese di Alan Wallach |
| MA MI | BUT ME |
| Serom in quatter col Padola, el Rodolfo, el Gaina e poeu mi: quatter amis, quatter malnatt, vegnu su insemma compagn di gatt. Emm fa la guera in Albania, poeu su in montagna a ciapà i ratt: negher Todesch del la Wermacht, mi fan morire domaa a pensagh! Poeu m’hann cataa in d’una imboscada: pugnn e pesciad e ’na fusilada... | We were a foursome with Padula Rodolfo, Gaina and me. A quartet of dumb-ass buddies We grew up together like cats. We fought in the war in Albania in the mountains catching the dark Nazi rats of the Wehrmacht. I could die just thinking about it. Then they caught me in an ambush punching, kicking and taking pot shots at me. |
| Ma mi, ma mi, ma mi, quaranta dì, quaranta nott, A San Vittur a ciapaa i bott, dormì de can, pien de malann!... Ma mi, ma mi, ma mi, quaranta dì, quaranta nott, sbattuu de su, sbattuu de giò: mi sont de quei che parlen no! | But me, but me, but me Forty days, forty nights in San Vittore, being thrashed, sleeping like a dog, full of aches and pains But me, but me, but me Forty days, forty nights beaten up and down I'm one of those that still won't talk |
| El Commissari ’na mattina el me manda a ciamà lì per lì: "Noi siamo qui, non sente alcun- el me diseva ’sto brutt terron! El me diseva - i tuoi compari nui li pigliasse senza di te... ma se parlasse ti firmo accà il tuo condono: la libertà! Fesso sì tu se resti contento d’essere solo chiuso qua ddentro..." | One morning the Commisar sent for me unexpectedly “We're here alone, no one to hear us,” he says to me, this ugly low-life “We'll get your buddies even without your help, but if you talk, I'll sign a pardon for you, it means freedom. You're crazy if you're content to stay in here alone” |
| Ma mi, ma mi, ma mi, quaranta dì, quaranta nott, A San Vittur a ciapaa i bott, dormì de can, pien de malann!... Ma mi, ma mi, ma mi, quaranta dì, quaranta nott, sbattuu de su, sbattuu de giò: mi sont de quei che parlen no! | But me, but me, but me Forty days, forty nights in San Vittore, being thrashed, sleeping like a dog, full of aches and pains But me, but me, but me Forty days, forty nights beaten up and down I'm one of those that still won't talk |
| Sont saraa su in ’sta ratera piena de nebbia, de fregg e de scur, sotta a ’sti mur passen i tramm, frecass e vita del ma Milan... El coeur se streng, venn giò la sira, me senti mal, e stoo minga in pee, cucciaa in sul lett in d’on canton me par de vess propri nissun! L’è pegg che in guera staa su la tera: la libertà la var ’na spiada! | Here I am closed in this rat hole Full of fog, It's cold and dark. The trams pass right under these walls The din and life of my Milan My heart is pained and breaks at night. I feel lousy and can't stand up. I'm lie on my bed in the corner I feel like I'm just nothing. To be here is worse than being in the war Freedom might be worth ratting on my friends. |
| Ma mi, ma mi, ma mi, quaranta dì, quaranta nott, A San Vittur a ciapaa i bott, dormì de can, pien de malann!... Ma mi, ma mi, ma mi, quaranta dì, quaranta nott, sbattuu de su, sbattuu de giò: mi sont de quei che parlen no! | But me, but me, but me Forty days, forty nights in San Vittore, being thrashed, sleeping like a dog, full of aches and pains But me, but me, but me Forty days, forty nights beaten up and down I'm one of those that still won't talk |
| Mi parli no! | But I'll say nothing!! |
