Paroles et traduction Davide Van De Sfroos - Il Reduce

Il Reduce

Spécia un attim a cascià via'l suu
E a lassamm de par me cun l'umbriia
In soel müür la tua cruus par che dunda
Quand che pizzi 'l camén
La pultrona cugnuss el me pees
Ma a sfundàla l'è questa memoria
Che l'è scià cul so fiaa de zampogna
Per mea famm durmi
E se vardi sto guantu de pell
Cun suta un pügn faa de legn
Se dumandi se la man che ho perdüü
L'è dree amà a sparà
O forsi l'è sta'l to regaal
Strepamm via quela man sciagürada
Che pregava per mea fass cupà
E sparava sparava sparava
A oltra geent che sparava
E sparava sparava sparava
A oltra geent che pregava

Eri mai cupaa gnaa un fasàn
E ho trataa sempru bee anca i furmiigh
Serum in tanti cargà in soe quel trenu
Cume foej destacàa
E imparaum la geografia
Nel cüntà ogni siit che brüsava
E la scendra de tüta l'Europa
Ghe l'ho ancamò in buca
Per el viaggio de nozz cun la mort
Hemm cataa foe Nikolajewka
E brindavum cul giazz e cul foec
E'l müson ne la palta
E la spusa vestida de negru
Quanta geent l'ha purta in soel so altaar
E intaant che ghe davi la man
La girava la facia luntan
Verso quei che basava
E perà la lassava'l so anell
A sto omm che turnava
La tua cruus la g'ha sempru tri cioo
E la mia uviameent voen in menu
Ma son qui con la stessa preghiera
Come ogni sera
Te la scrivo col sangue non speso
E una penna nera.

The Veteran

Just one moment to take off my coat
And leave me alone with my shadow
Your cross on the wall seems to sway
When I light the fire
The armchair knows my weight
But it's this memory that collapses it
Which is already here with its bagpipe sound
Let me sleep
And if you look at this leather glove
With a wooden fist underneath
You wonder if the hand I lost
Is still out there shooting
Or maybe it was your gift
Tear away that wretched hand
That prayed for me to be killed
And shot and shot and shot
At other people who were shooting
And shot and shot and shot
At other people who were praying

I had never even killed a pheasant
And I had always treated even ants kindly
We were many loaded onto that train
Like detached leaves
And we learned geography
By counting each place that burned
And the ash of all Europe
I still have in mouth
For the wedding trip with death
We found Nikolajewka
And we toasted with ice and fire
And our snout in the mud
And the bride dressed in black
How many people has she brought to her altar
And while I gave her my hand
She turned her face away
Towards those she was kissing
And yet she left her ring
To this man who was returning
Your cross always has three nails
And mine obviously wants less
But I am here with the same prayer
As every evening
I write it to you with blood not spent
And a black feather.