Lyrics and translation Carmen Consoli - In Bianco E Nero - Remastered

In Bianco E Nero - Remastered

Guardo una foto di mia madre
Era felice avrà avuto tre anni
Stringeva al petto una bambola
Il regalo più ambito
Era la festa del suo compleanno
Un bianco e nero sbiadito
Guardo mia madre a quei tempi e rivedo
Il mio stesso sorriso

E pensare a quante volte l′ho sentita lontana
E pensare a quante volte

Le avrei voluto parlare di me, chiederle almeno il perché
Nei lunghi ed ostili silenzi e momenti di noncuranza
Puntualmente mi dimostravo inflessibile, inaccessibile e fiera
Intimamente agguerrita temendo una sciocca rivalità

Guardo una foto di mia madre
Era felice avrà avuto vent'anni
Capelli raccolti in un foulard di seta
Ed una espressione svanita
Nitido scorcio degli anni 60
Di una raggiante Catania
La scruto per filo e per segno e ritrovo
Il mio stesso sguardo

E pensare a quante volte l′ho sentita lontana
E pensare a quante volte

Le avrei voluto parlare di me, chiederle almeno il perché
Nei lunghi ed ostili silenzi e di quella arbitraria indolenza
Puntualmente mi dimostravo inflessibile, inaccessibile e fiera
Intimamente agguerrita, temendo l'innata rivalità

Le avrei voluto parlare di me
Chiederle almeno il perché
Le avrei voluto parlare di me
Chiederle almeno il perché
Chiederle almeno il perché
Chiederle almeno il perché

In Black and White - Remastered

I look at a photo of my mother
She was happy, about three years old
She was squeezing a doll
The most coveted gift
It was her birthday party
A faded black and white
I look at my mother at that time and see
My own smile

And to think of how many times I felt she was far away
And to think of how many times

I would have wanted to talk to her about me, ask her at least why
In the long and hostile silences and moments of nonchalance
I always proved to be unyielding, inaccessible and proud
Inwardly aggressive fearing a silly rivalry

I look at a photo of my mother
She was happy, about twenty years old
Hair gathered in a silk scarf
And a faded expression
A clear glimpse of the 60s
Of a radiant Catania
I scrutinize it thread by thread and find
My own gaze

And to think of how many times I felt she was far away
And to think of how many times

I would have wanted to talk to her about me, ask her at least why
In the long and hostile silences and that arbitrary indolence
I always proved to be unyielding, inaccessible and proud
Inwardly aggressive, fearing the innate rivalry

I would have wanted to talk to her about me
Ask her at least why
I would have wanted to talk to her about me
Ask her at least why
Ask her at least why
Ask her at least why