North Country Blues
Bob DylanOriginal | Versione italiana / Italian version / Version italienne / Italiankielinen... |
NORTH COUNTRY BLUES | BLUES DELLA TERRA DEL NORD |
Come gather 'round friends And I'll tell you a tale Of when the red iron pits ran plenty. But the cardboard filled windows And old men on the benches Tell you now that the whole town is empty. | Venite qui intorno per voi ho una storia La fonderia che pulsava I vecchi seduti sopra le panche E la città che spariva |
In the north end of town, My own children are grown But I was raised on the other. In the wee hours of youth, My mother took sick And I was brought up by my brother. | Nella parte più a nord sono nati i miei figli Più a sud io sono cresciuta Quand’ero bambina mia madre ammalò E fui dal fratello allevata |
The iron ore poured As the years passed the door, The drag lines an' the shovels they was a-humming. 'Til one day my brother Failed to come home The same as my father before him. | La fonderia pulsava più forte Gli anni via come magia Ronzavano pale e scavatrici Un giorno mio padre andò via |
Well a long winter's wait, From the window I watched. My friends they couldn't have been kinder. And my schooling was cut As I quit in the spring To marry John Thomas, a miner. | Tutto l’inverno aspettai alla finestra Gli amici mi davano il cuore La scuola poi l’abbandonai Sposai un bel minatore |
Oh the years passed again And the givin' was good, With the lunch bucket filled every season. What with three babies born, The work was cut down To a half a day's shift with no reason. | Noi eravamo felici e contenti La pentola piena e beata Ma poi il lavoro ci fu dimezzato Con turni di mezza giornata |
Then the shaft was soon shut And more work was cut, And the fire in the air, it felt frozen. 'Til a man come to speak And he said in one week That number eleven was closin'. | Il pozzo fu chiuso e il lavoro finì L’aria si fece gelata Un giorno un uomo ci venne a parlare La nove l’avrebbe fermata |
They complained in the East, They are paying too high. They say that your ore ain't worth digging. That it's much cheaper down In the South American towns Where the miners work almost for nothing. | Quelli del nord non sono contenti Il nostro metallo non vale Quello del sud è più conveniente Del trenta per cento al quintale |
So the mining gates locked And the red iron rotted And the room smelled heavy from drinking. Where the sad, silent song Made the hour twice as long As I waited for the sun to go sinking. | Così la miniera chiuse i cancelli Puzzo di whisky più forte La triste canzone avvolgeva le ore Di peggio c’è solo la morte |
I lived by the window As he talked to himself, This silence of tongues it was building. Then one morning's wake, The bed it was bare, And I's left alone with three children. | Vivo pensando e lui parla a se stesso Silenzi crudeli e assassini Una mattina il letto fu vuoto Rimasi coi miei tre bambini |
The summer is gone, The ground's turning cold, The stores one by one they're a-foldin'. My children will go As soon as they grow. Well, there ain't nothing here now to hold them. | L’estate è sparita l’inverno è più freddo Si stanno spengendo le stelle Anche i miei figli fra un po’ se ne andranno In cerca di storie più belle |
Cover metrica |