Lyrics and translation Roberto Vecchioni - A.R.

A.R.

La miseria di una stanza a Londra
Le fumerie di Soho
Già grande si buttava via
E sua madre nel fienile, nel ricordo
Vecchia, scassata borghesia
Ribaltare le parole, invertire il senso fino allo sputo
Cercando un′altra poesia
E Verlaine che gli sparava e gli gridava
"Non lasciarmi, no, non lasciarmi, vita mia"

E nave, porca nave, vai
La gamba mi fa male, dai
Le luci di Marsiglia non arrivan mai
"Un hydrolat lacrimal lave
Les cieux vert-chou, les cieux vert-chou
Sous l'arbre tendronnier qui bave vous cautchous"

Portoghesi, inglesi e tanti altri uccelli di rapina
Scelse per compagnia
Quella voglia di annientarsi, di non darsi
E basta, basta poesia
E volersi far male al punto di finire, lui mercante d′armi
Fra l'Egitto e la follia
E una negra grande come un ospedale da aspettare
E poi la gamba e l'agonia

E nave, porca nave, vai
Fa freddo e manca poco, dai
Le luci di Marsiglia non arrivan mai
Ho visto tutto e cosa so?
Ho rinunciato, ho detto "no"
Ricordo a malapena quale nome ho

Arthur Rimbaud
Arthur Rimbaud
Arthur Rimbaud

A.R.

The destitution of a room in London
The smoking dens of Soho
Already great, he threw himself away
And his mother in the barn, in memory
Old, broken down bourgeoisie
To overturn words, to invert their meaning to the point of spitting
Seeking another poetry
And Verlaine who shot at him and shouted at him
"Don't leave me, no, don't leave me, my love"

And ship, you damn ship, go
My leg hurts, come on
The lights of Marseille never arrive
"A lacrimal hydrolat
Washes the cabbage-green skies, the cabbage-green skies
Under the drooling tree that gives you rubber"

Portuguese, English and so many other birds of prey
He chose for company
That desire to annihilate himself, not to give himself
And enough, enough poetry
And wanting to hurt himself to the point of finishing, he an arms dealer
Between Egypt and madness
And a black woman as big as a hospital to wait for
And then the leg and the agony

And ship, you damn ship, go
It's cold and we're almost there, come on
The lights of Marseille never arrive
I've seen everything and what do I know?
I gave up, I said "no"
I can barely remember what my name is

Arthur Rimbaud
Arthur Rimbaud
Arthur Rimbaud