Paroles et traduction Mina - Lacreme napulitane (Live Version) [Remastered]

Lacreme napulitane (Live Version) [Remastered]

Mia cara madre,
Sta pe trasì Natale
E a stà luntane cchiù me sape amaro
Comme vurria allummà duie tre biangale
Come vurria sentì nu zampugnaro!
E le ninne mieie facitele o presepio
E a tavola miettite o piatto mio
Facite quanno è a sera d'a Vigilia
Comme si mmiezzo a vuie stesse pur'io

E nce ne costa lacreme st'America
A nuie napulitane
Co' nuie ca nce chiagnimmo 'o cielo 'e Napule
Comme è amaro stu ppane!

Mia cara madre,
Che ssò, che ssò 'e dinare?
Pe che se chiagne a Patria nun so niente
Mo tengo quacche dollaro e me pare
Ca nun so stato maie tanto pezzente!
Ma sonno tutt'e notte 'a casa mia
E d'e criature mieie ne sento 'a voce
Ma a vuie ve sonno comme a 'na Maria
Nt'e state 'mpietto 'nnato figlio 'ncroce.

E nce ne costa lacreme st'America
A nuie napulitane
Co' nuie che ce chiangimmo o cielo 'e Napule
Comme è amaro stu ppane!

M'avite scritto
Che Assuntulella chiamma
Chi l'ha lassata e sta luntana ancora
Che v'aggia a dì? Si 'e figlie vonno 'a mamma
Facitela turnà chella signora
Ma no, nun torno. Me ne resto fore,
E resto a faticà pe tutte quante.
E s'aggio perso patria, casa, onore
I sò carne 'e maciello: so emigrante

E nce ne costa lacreme st'America
A nuie napulitane
Co' nuie che ce chiangimmo o cielo 'e Napule
Comme è amaro stu ppane!

Neapolitan Tears (Live Version) [Remastered]

My dear mother,
Christmas is almost here,
And being far away makes it even more bitter
How I wish I could light a few candles,
How I wish I could hear a bagpiper!
And my lullabies, play them at the nativity scene,
And set a plate for me at the table,
Do it on Christmas Eve,
As if I were there among you

And this America costs us tears,
To us Neapolitans,
With us weeping for the sky of Naples,
How bitter this bread is!

My dear mother,
What are these riches?
I don't know why we cry about our country
Now I have a few dollars and it seems
That I've never been so poor!
But I dream of my home every night,
And I hear the voices of my children,
But to you, I am like a Mary,
Nailed to a cross, in exile from her child.

And this America costs us tears,
To us Neapolitans,
With us weeping for the sky of Naples,
How bitter this bread is!

You wrote to me
That little Assunta is calling out
For the one who left her and is still far away,
What can I say? If her children want their mother,
Let that lady come back
But no, I'm not coming back. I'll stay away
And I'll keep working hard for all of you.
And if I've lost my country, my home, my honor,
I'm still their flesh and blood: I'm an emigrant

And this America costs us tears,
To us Neapolitans,
With us weeping for the sky of Naples,
How bitter this bread is!