Paroles et traduction Patrizio Trampetti feat. Francesco Baccini - Portugal

Portugal

Portugal " paese antico
Portugal porta 'ncopp' 'o mare
Fa pensa' America lontana
Facce scure, facce nere, facce 'e muort' 'e famm.

Portugal u l'è un pàise appeisu
Portugal u sta cu-e miande
U fa pensà a l'America c'ha cianse
Facce sc-e, facce neigre pan di brasilien.

Portugal ch'u nu porta niente
Portugal porta 'ncopp 'o viente
Fa penza' America fetente
Facce scure, facce nere, facce 'e muort 'e famm'

Taera mae, taera to
Chi taera nu sta cui
Terra mia, terra toia
Terra nu' sta cchiú
Vocia mia, vocia tipa
Ca num canta cchiú
Vuxe mae, vuxe to
Che nu cantan ciu
Terra mia, terra toia
Chi a taera nu sta ciu
Vuxe mae, vuxe to
Ca nun canta cchiú
Taera mae, taera to
'Nterra nun sta cchiú
Vocia mia, vocia toia
Che nu canta ciu
Portugal ch'u sta in faccia a ninte
E cu-e Spagna u fa un continente
Fa penza' all' Africa vicina
'Nzularchia, suonne 'nfuse
Staie semp' 'nfucate
Portugal canta sta 'nfaccia a niente
E ca Spagna fa 'nu continente
U fa pensà a l'Africa vixinn-a
Troppu sù, troppu cadu
Senza travagi
Taera mae, taera to
Chi a taera nu sta ciu
Terra mia, terra toia
Ca nu' canta cchiú
Vocia mia, vocia toia
Chi a taera nu sta ciu
Vuxe mae, vuxe to
Ca nu' canta cchiú
Taera mae, taera to
'Nterra nu' sta cchiú
Vocia mia, vocia toia
Che nu cantan ciu
Vocia mia, vocia toia
Che nu cantan ciu
Vocia mia, vocia toia
Ca nu' canta cchiú.

Portugal

Portugal " ancient country
Portugal faces out to sea
Makes you think of faraway America
Dark faces, black faces, faces of the dead from hunger.

Portugal is a hanging country
Portugal stands with its hands in its pockets
Makes you think of America that cries
Pale faces, black faces, bread of the Brazilians.

Portugal does not wear anything
Portugal wears it in the wind
Makes you think of stinking America
Dark faces, black faces, faces of the dead from hunger

Your land, my land
There's no one left to live here
My land, your land
There is no more land
My voice, your voice
That never sings anymore
Your voice, my voice
That doesn't sing anymore
My land, your land
There is no one left here
Your voice, my voice
That never sings anymore
Your land, my land
There is no more land
My voice, your voice
That never sings anymore
Portugal that faces nothing
And with Spain it makes a continent
Makes you think of nearby Africa
Gulf lands, unexpected dreams
You always stay lit
Portugal sings facing nothing
And that Spain makes a continent
Makes you think of nearby Africa
Too high, too low
Without struggle
Your land, my land
There's no one left here
My land, your land
That never sings anymore
My voice, your voice
That doesn't sing anymore
Your voice, my voice
That never sings anymore
Your land, my land
There is no more land
My voice, your voice
That doesn't sing anymore
My voice, your voice
That never sings anymore
My voice, your voice
That never sings anymore.