Lyrics and translation Cosang - Povere Mmano

Povere Mmano

Chesta va...
A Sandro "Shock"
Nisciuno te scorda fra′
Povere mmano...
Chest rimmane frà

Corron' e passan′ 'e canzon 'e 24 ore
Voc′ stanc′ parlan' ′e chi è carut e camp' ancor′ dinto 'e parole
O n′piett ca' facc' sott′ ′a nu lacc' r′oro
Miseria che rignev l'uocchie ′a sera
Rigneva 'e carte quanne steva sulo co′ 'e pensier
Appartenev' a′rò criscev′
'A casa mia 470
Se davan ′e man' ogni tant′
Scala ra scola vacant'
E′ sti jurnat rimman' povere mmano
E nun era 'o tiempo re′ facc′ indecis'
Se m′hai 'ntis ′o ssaje ca' ′o fuoco esce ra'
Vocc' aropp′ ca′ 'e flash trasen′ dinto' a ll′uocchie
A'rò stong je, angel′ e riavol' a dinto
L'aria è pulita e ′o nomm saglie co′ cuntrarie ra' vita
E quanti frat′ co' ′e frat' scumpars′
'E vetri rutt' e sang′ spars′ fann' brutt′ ppe nuje
Ma no pe chi si sparte 'e part′ e tutt' ′a vita fuje
Pensanno a comme, cercanno a'dinto nun truov l'ommo
Tutta esperienza n′miezzo a chi vota ′e spalle a' cuscienz′
S'è pers′ 'o cunto re′ dramm' e re' mamm′ adolescent′
A'rò nun scenn′ lacrima ca nun è o'ver
′E pugn' cchiù stritt re rient′ e nient ce mantene
Amami e damm' 'o bene quanne nun m′ho merito, ′tanno ne aggio bisogno
L'aggio appres′ dinto 'e pret′ e nun m'ho scordo
Manteng′ 'a penn, ppe me è na scummess

'O scuorno è favezo comm ′e prumesse
Si ce stesse nu post′ je ce veness'

Nun te commuover′, nun è nu piezz' trist′
Chist' è ppe salutà chi se n′è juto giovane
E' povere, nun è memoria

'A tuocc′ ancora co′ 'e man
T′ aiuta pa' vittoria
Scorr dinto ′e cose che faje
Nun te commuover', nun è nu piezz′ trist'
Chist' è ppe salutà chi se n′è juto giovane
E′ povere, nun è memoria

'A tuocc′ ancora co' ′e man
T' aiuta pa′ vittoria
Scorr dinto 'e cose che faje

Pe ogni tiro na ruga, nun po' capì chi fuje
L′ aria attuorno a nuje se brucia e Dio è vennuto
Je sò crisciuto piglianno ′a morte ppe juoco
N' ato ommo se addorme lascianno l′ ammore fore ra 'e suonne suoje
Cchiù veloce re′ juorni faccio 'e paure saglì
Lascianno ascì sta poesia, ne voglio n′ appoc
E fore ra' st' uocchie tengo nu viaggio assurdo dinto agli eccessi
Currevo appriesso a pallun′ ca mò sò Rolex
Cagnano ′e cose, 'o viento fà vulà ′e lacreme
Persiane se acalano ma arreto ll' uocchie te guardano
E ′o rione sape già chi more
E fore pensano ancora che a sbaglià sò lloro
Me chiero se 'e sorde ponno stutà ′sta rraggia che tengo
Faccio 'e l' irriverenza na forza e ′e fuga na corsa
E′ voglio stise' n′ terra co' ll′ uocchie che tremmano
E annanz' ′o primmo muorto che verettemo rerevamo
Pochi ce crerono che st' odio nasce a rancore
Pochi ce pensano ch' st′ odio cresce dinto ′e scole
E vere 'e figli suoje co′ vuot annanz e 'e figli affianco
Na mano nun vale nu dito
Nu dito vale na mano

Chiammalo e vire se sann′ n' carcere comme se astregneno
Cercanno ′a vita dinto 'a na lettera
C' hanno tenuto zitt′ e bbuon′ sott 'o segni re croci
E mo saccio pecchè sti guaglion′ nun so' doci

Nun te commuover′, nun è nu piezz' trist′

Chist' è ppe salutà chi se n'è juto giovane
E′ povere, nun è memoria
′A tuocc' ancora co′ 'e man
T′ aiuta pa' vittoria
Scorr dinto ′e cose che faje
Nun te commuover', nun è nu piezz' trist′
Chist′ è ppe salutà chi se n'è juto giovane
E′ povere, nun è memoria
'A tuocc′ ancora co' ′e man
T' aiuta pa' vittoria
Scorr dinto ′e cose che faje

Sandro "Shock"
Lamberto
Annalisa
Francesco
Claudio
Attilio
Dio ve benedice guagliù

Poor Hands

This goes out to...
To Sandro "Shock"
No one forgets you, bro'
Poor hands...
This remains, bro'

The songs and 24 hours run by and pass
I'm tired of voices speaking of those who have fallen and still live in words
Or in the cry I make under a golden noose
Misery that filled my eyes in the evening
It filled the cards when I was alone with my thoughts
It belonged to where I grew up
My home 470
We'd help each other every now and then
The stairs of the empty school
And these days remain, poor hands
And there wasn't time to be indecisive
If you hear me, you know that fire comes from
The closed voices that the flashes carry into my eyes
Where I turn them off, angels and devils inside
The air is clean and the name rises with the difficulties of life
And how many brothers with their brothers have disappeared
The broken glass and spilled blood are ugly to us
But not for those who share the parts and whose whole life has fled
Thinking about how, searching within, I can't find the man
All experience in the midst of those who turn their backs on conscience
The story of the drama and the adolescent mothers is lost
Tears that aren't true don't fall now
The tightest fists to laugh and nothing keeps us going
Love me and give me good when I don't deserve it, that's when I need it
I learned it among the stones and haven't forgotten it
I hold the pen, for me it's a gamble

Shame is common like promises
If there was a place I would come

Don't be moved, it's not a sad piece
This is to greet those who left young
And the poor, it's not memory

To touch again with hands
It helps you for victory
It flows into the things you do
Don't be moved, it's not a sad piece
This is to greet those who left young
And the poor, it's not memory

To touch again with hands
It helps you for victory
It flows into the things you do

For every shot a wrinkle, you can't understand what was
The air around us is burning and God has come
I grew up taking death for a game
Another man falls asleep leaving love outside his dreams
Faster than the days, I make fears rise
Letting this poetry come out, I want a few of them
And outside these eyes I hold an absurd journey into excesses
I used to run after balls that are now Rolex
Things change, the wind makes tears fly
Shutters calm down but behind them eyes are watching you
And the neighborhood already knows who is dying
And outside they still think that they are the ones who make mistakes
I wonder if money can silence this rage I have
I make irreverence a strength and escape a race
And I want to lie on the ground with my eyes trembling
And before the first dead we saw we would back down
Few believed that this hatred is born of rancor
Few think that this hatred grows inside schools
And to see their children with emptiness in front and their children beside them
One hand is not worth a finger
One finger is worth a hand

Call him and see if they know how they tighten up in prison
Looking for life in a letter
That kept them silent and good under the sign of the crosses
And now I know why these kids aren't sweet

Don't be moved, it's not a sad piece

This is to greet those who left young
And the poor, it's not memory
To touch again with hands
It helps you for victory
It flows into the things you do
Don't be moved, it's not a sad piece
This is to greet those who left young
And the poor, it's not memory
To touch again with hands
It helps you for victory
It flows into the things you do

Sandro "Shock"
Lamberto
Annalisa
Francesco
Claudio
Attilio
God bless you, guys