Paroles et traduction en anglais O Zulu - 'A Livella

'A Livella

Ogn'anno, il due novembre, c'è l'usanza
Per i defunti andare al Cimitero
Ognuno ll'adda fà chesta crianza;
Ognuno adda tené chistu penziero

Ogn'anno, puntualmente, in questo giorno,
Di questa triste e mesta ricorrenza,
Anch'io ci vado, e con dei fiori adorno
Il loculo marmoreo 'e zi' Vicenza

E dopo aver compiuto il triste omaggio,
St'anno m'è capitato 'navventura
Dovetti farmi anema e curaggio
Al solo raccontarlo fa paura

Il fatto è questo, statemi a sentire:
S'avvicinava ll'ora d'à chiusura:
Io, tomo tomo, stavo per uscire
Buttando un occhio a qualche sepoltura

"Qui dorme in pace il nobile marchese
Signore di Rovigo e di Belluno
Ardimentoso eroe di mille imprese
Morto l'11 maggio del'31"

'O stemma cu 'a curona 'ncoppa a tutto...
Sotto 'na croce fatta 'e lampadine;
Tre mazze 'e rose cu 'na lista 'e lutto:
Cannele, cannelotte e sei lumine

Proprio azzeccata 'a tomba 'e stu signore
Nce stava 'n 'ata tomba piccerella,
Abbandunata, senza cchiu nu ciore;
Pe' segno, sulamente 'na crucella

E ncoppa 'a croce appena se liggeva:
"Esposito Gennaro - netturbino":
Guardannola, che ppena me faceva
Stu muorto senza manco nu lumino!

Chesta è 'a vita! 'ncapo a me penzavo
Chi ha avuto tanto e chi nun ave niente!
Stu povero maronna s'aspettava
Ca pur all'atu munno era pezzente?

'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o'ssai crè? Amen Amen!
'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o'ssai crè? Amen Amen!
'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o'ssai crè? Amen Amen!

Mentre fantasticavo stu penziero,
S'era ggià fatta quase mezanotte,
E i'rimanette 'nchiuso priggiuniero,
Muorto 'e paura... nnanze 'e cannelotte

Tutto a 'nu tratto, che veco 'a luntano?
Ddoje ombre avvicenarse 'a parte mia
Penzaje: che fatto strano
Stongo scetato, rummenne, o è 'na fantasia?

Ma erano 'o Marchese e 'o scopatore
So' muorte e se ritirano a chest'ora?
E poi 'o Marchese se fermaje 'e botto
E dicette a don Gennar: "Giovanotto!"

Vorrei saper, vile carogna,
Con quale ardire e come avete osato
Di farvi seppellir, per mia vergogna,
Accanto a me che sono blasonato!

Ancora oltre sopportar non posso
La Vostra vicinanza puzzolente,
Fa d'uopo, quindi, che cerchiate un fosso
Tra i vostri pari, tra la vostra gente" (la vostra gente)

'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o'ssai crè? Amen Amen!
'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o'ssai crè? Amen Amen!
'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o'ssai crè? Amen Amen!
'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o'ssai crè? Amen Amen!

"Signor Marchese, nun è colpa mia,
I'nun v'avesse fatto chistu tuorto;
Mia moglie è stata a ffa' sta fesseria,
I' che putevo fa' si ero muorto?

Si fosse vivo ve farrei cuntento,
E proprio mo, 'nd'a stu mumento
Pigliasse 'a casciulella cu 'e qquatt'osse
Mme ne trasesse dinto a n'ata fossa"

'Nu rre,'nu maggistrato, 'nu grand'ommo,
Trasenno stu canciello ha fatt'o punto
C'ha perzo tutto,'a vita e pure 'o nomme:
Tu nu t'hè fatto ancora chistu cunto?

Perciò, stamme a ssenti nun fa 'o restivo,
Suppuorteme vicino-che te 'mporta?
Sti ppagliacciate 'e ffanno sulo 'e vive:
Nuje simmo serie appartenimmo à morte!"

'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o'ssai crè? Amen Amen!
'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o'ssai crè? Amen Amen!
'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o'ssai crè? Amen Amen!

'A morte o 'ssai, 'a morte o 'ssai crè?
'A morte è 'na livella!

'A Livella

Every year, on November 2nd, it's customary
For the deceased to go to the Cemetery
Everyone must follow this tradition;
Everyone must hold this thought

Every year, punctually, on this day,
Of this sad and mournful remembrance,
I also go there, and with flowers adorn
The marble abode of Aunt Vicenza

And after having paid the sad homage,
This year it happened to me, by chance
I had to muster soul and courage
Just telling it is frightening

The fact is this, listen to me:
The hour of closing was approaching:
I, slowly, was about to leave
Throwing an eye at some tombs

"Here sleeps in peace the noble Marquis
Lord of Rovigo and Belluno
Daring hero of a thousand endeavors
Died on May 11th, 1831"

The emblem with the crown on top of everything...
Under a cross made of light bulbs;
Three bunches of roses with a mourning ribbon:
Candles, large candles, and six lights

Right next to the tomb of this gentleman
There was another small tomb,
Abandoned, without a flower anymore;
As a sign, only a small cross

And on the cross you could barely read:
"Esposito Gennaro - garbage man":
Looking at it, how sorry I felt
For this dead man without even a candle!

This is life! I was thinking to myself
Who had so much and who had nothing!
This poor soul was expecting
That even in the other world he was destitute?

Death is a great leveler, isn't it? Amen Amen!
Death is a great leveler, isn't it? Amen Amen!
Death is a great leveler, isn't it? Amen Amen!

While I was fantasizing about this thought,
It was almost midnight,
And I remained locked up as a prisoner,
Scared to death... in front of the candles

All of a sudden, what do I see in the distance?
Two shadows approaching my way
I thought: what a strange event
Am I awake, dreaming, or is it a fantasy?

But they were the Marquis and the street sweeper
Are they dead and coming back at this hour?
And then the Marquis stopped abruptly
And said to Don Gennaro: "Young man!"

I would like to know, vile carrion,
With what audacity and how you dared
To be buried, to my shame,
Next to me who is noble!

I can no longer bear
Your smelly presence,
It is necessary, therefore, that you seek a ditch
Among your peers, among your people" (your people)

Death is a great leveler, isn't it? Amen Amen!
Death is a great leveler, isn't it? Amen Amen!
Death is a great leveler, isn't it? Amen Amen!
Death is a great leveler, isn't it? Amen Amen!

"Mister Marquis, it's not my fault,
I wouldn't have done you this wrong;
My wife made this foolish move,
What could I do, I was dead?"

If I were alive I would satisfy you,
And right now, at this moment
I would take the small box with my four bones
And move myself into another grave"

A king, a magistrate, a great man,
Crossing this threshold has made the point
That he has lost everything, life and even his name:
Haven't you realized this yet?

Therefore, listen to me, don't be fussy,
Bear with me nearby - what does it matter to you?
These farces are only done by the living:
We are serious, we belong to death!"

Death is a great leveler, isn't it? Amen Amen!
Death is a great leveler, isn't it? Amen Amen!
Death is a great leveler, isn't it? Amen Amen!

Death is a great leveler, isn't it?
Death is a leveler!