Paroles et traduction Davide Van De Sfroos - Il libro del mago

Il libro del mago

Scèndra, scìla e foemmAbracadabra e incensi cul prufoemm,
Sciguèta imbalsamada e un Basilisco disegnaa sura una spada,
Abraxas Xabaras e vèss o mea vèss
I sègn in soe la man i henn cumè i oss dii pèss
E pàren mai istèss.
Butàvi i oecc in mèzz ai stèll, saràvi el cieel in un sedèll,
Tarantula, Voodoo, Macumba, Sabbahormai non servon più.
E Cristo o Trismegisto e Conte di Cagliostro,
Cabala, Tetraktis e di ogni astro
Un tempo ero il Maestro.
MA QUAAND GH'ERI TREDES ANN CUREVI BIUTT CUME' UN CAVALL
FIADAVI L'UNIVERSO CUN'T EL COER IN MEZZ AI BALL
QUAAND SERI PUSSEE SCEMU SERI MULTU PUSSEE BON
IN BRASC ALL'UNIVERSO E MEA NELLA SUA PRESONN
E i geent voeren savè nel gèrlu del destèn cussè che gh'è
Fissaa cun't el dumànn e intaant el teemp ghe bòrla foe dii màn
E alùra tucc dal Magu a ruump i bàll
El muund ghe và pioe bee e me g'ho de cambiàll
O fa' parè de fàll.
Mandragula, cristàll e un talismano per vardàss i spàll,
Un brascialètt de ràmm e una reliquia che l'è scià de Notre Dame,
Bicchiere mezzo vuoto o forse mezzo pieno
Avrei dovuto berloguardarlo un po' di meno.
Ma ce l'ho ancora in mano.
MA QUAAND GH'ERI TREDES ANN GH'ERA EL PRUFOEMM DEL RUSMARENN,
QUAAND LA ROESA SE SPALANCA LA DESMENTEGA I SO' SPENN,
QUAAND GH'ERI TREDES ANN GH'ERI ANCA TREDES COER
ADESS EL COER L'è VOENN, IMBALSAMAA E'L PO' PIOE CURR.
In un libru de stregoneria ho scrivuu tuta questa mia vita
Ma ho capii el sensu de tutt quaand urmai ho finii la matita,
E adess che giri la carta, imbesuii vardi nella mia sfèra,
La Magia ho capii che ghe l'eri in sacòcia quand sèri gnaa cussè l'era

The Magician's Book

Descend, rise, and waftAbracadabra and incense with the sweet scent,
Balsamed willow and a Basilisk drawn upon a sword,
Abraxas Xabaras and woe, o my woe
The signs on my hand are like the bones of fish
And never seem the same.
Gaze into the stars, you'll be heaven in a chair,
Tarantula, Voodoo, Macumba, Sabba; they're of no use now.
And Christ or Trismegistus and Count of Cagliostro,
Kabbalah, Tetraktis, and of every star
I was once the Master.
BUT WHEN I WAS THIRTEEN I BELIEVED I WAS THROWN LIKE A HORSE
I TRUSTED THE UNIVERSE WITH THE HEART IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DANCE
WHEN I WAS MORE FOOLISH I WAS MUCH MORE KIND
IN THE ARMS OF THE UNIVERSE AND MINE IN ITS PRISON
And people went knowing what's in the basket of destiny
Stare with the question and meanwhile time flies out of hand
And then everyone from the Magician breaks the dances
The world goes better for it and I have to change it
Or make it look like I do.
Mandrake, crystal, and a talisman to watch over my shoulders,
A copper bracelet and a relic that is already from Notre Dame,
Glass half empty or perhaps half full
I should have kept an eye on it a little less.
But I still have it in my hand.
BUT WHEN I WAS THIRTEEN THERE WAS THE SCENT OF ROSEMARY,
WHEN THE ROSE OPENS IT FORGETS ITS THORNS,
WHEN I WAS THIRTEEN THERE WERE ALSO THIRTEEN HEARTS
NOW THE HEART IS ONE, BALSAMED AND CAN NO LONGER RUN.
In a book of witchcraft I wrote all this my life
But I understood the meaning of all when I finished the pencil,
And now that I turn the page, amazed I look into my sphere,
The Magic I understood that I had in my pocket when it wasn't even there