Текст и перевод песни Co'Sang - Povere mmano

Povere mmano

Se, chesta va
A Sandro "Shock"
Nisciuno te scorda fra'
Povere mmano
Chest rimmane, frà
Corron' e passan' 'e canzon 'e 24 ore
Voc' stanc' parlan' 'e chi è carut e camp' ancor' dinto 'e parole
O n'piett ca' facc' sott' 'a nu lacc' r'oro
Miseria che rignev l'uocchie 'a sera
Rigneva 'e carte quanne steva sulo co' 'e pensier
Appartenev' arò criscev', 'a casa mia 470
Se davan 'e man' ogni tant'
Scala ra scola vacant'
E' sti jurnat rimman' povere mmano
E nun era 'o tiempo re' facc' indecis'
Se m'hai 'ntis 'o ssaje ca' 'o fuoco esce ra' vocc
Aropp' ca' 'e flash trasen' dinto' a ll'uocchie
A'rò stong je, angel' e riavol' a dinto
L'aria è pulita e 'o nomm saglie co' cuntrarie ra' vita
E quanti frat' co' 'e frat' scumpars'
'E vetri rutt' e o sang' spars' fann' brutt' ppe nuje
Ma no pe chi si sparte 'e part' e tutt' 'a vita fuje
Pensanno a comme, cercanno a'dinto nun truov l'ommo
Tutta esperienza n'miezzo a chi vota 'e spalle a' cuscienz'
S'è pers' 'o cunto re' dramm' e de' mamm' adolescent'
Addò nun scenn' lacrima ca nun è o'ver
'E pugn' cchiù stritt re rient' e nient ce mantene
Amami e damm' 'o bene quanne nun m'ho merito
'Tanno ne aggio bisogno
L'aggio appres' dinto 'e pret' e nun m'ho scordo
Manteng' 'a penn, ppe me è na scummess
'O scuorno è favezo comm 'e prumesse
Si ce stesse nu post' je ce veness'
Nun te commuover', nun è nu piezz' trist'
Chist' è ppe salutà chi se n'è juto giovane
E' povere, nun è memoria
'A tuocc' ancora co' 'e man
T' aiuta pa' vittoria
Scorr dinto 'e cose che faje
Nun te commuover', nun è nu piezz' trist'
Chist' è ppe salutà chi se n'è juto giovane
E' povere, nun è memoria
'A tuocc' ancora co' 'e man
T' aiuta pa' vittoria
Scorr dinto 'e cose che faje
Pe ogni tiro na ruga, nun po' capì chi fuje
L'aria attuorno a nuje se brucia e Dio è vennuto
Je sò crisciuto piglianno 'a morte ppe juoco
N'ato ommo se addorme lascianno l' ammore fore ra 'e suonne suoje
Chiù veloce re' juorni faccio 'e paure saglì
Lascianno ascì sta poesia, ne voglio n'appoc
E fore ra' st' uocchie tengo nu viaggio assurdo dinto agli eccessi
Currevo appriesso a pallun' ca mò sò Rolex
Cagnano 'e cose, 'o viento fà vulà 'e lacreme
Persiane se acalano, ma arreto ll' uocchie te guardano
E 'o rione sape già chi more
E fore pensano ancora che a sbaglià sò lloro
Me chiero se 'e sorde ponno stutà 'sta rraggia che tengo
Faccio 'e l' irriverenza na forza e 'e fuga na corsa
E' voglio stise' n' terra co' ll' uocchie che tremmano
E annanz' 'o primmo muorto che verettemo rerevamo
Pochi ce crerono che st'odio nasce a rancore
Pochi ce pensano ch' st'odio cresce dinto 'e scole
E vere 'e figli suoje co' vuot annanz e 'e figli affianco
Na mano nun vale nu dito
Nu dito vale na mano
Chiammalo e vire se sann' n' carcere comme se astregneno
Cercanno 'a vita dinto 'a na lettera
C'hanno tenuto zitt' e bbuon' sott 'o segni re croci
E mo saccio pecchè sti guaglion' nun so' doci
Nun te commuover', nun è nu piezz' trist'
Chist' è ppe salutà chi se n'è juto giovane
E' povere, nun è memoria
'A tuocc' ancora co' 'e man
T' aiuta pa' vittoria
Scorr dinto 'e cose che faje
Nun te commuover', nun è nu piezz' trist'
Chist' è ppe salutà chi se n'è juto giovane
E' povere, nun è memoria
'A tuocc' ancora co' 'e man
T' aiuta pa' vittoria
Scorr dinto 'e cose che faje
Sandro "Shock"
Lamberto
Annalisa
Francesco
Claudio
Attilio
Dio ve benedice, guagliù

Poor Hands

Yeah, this one goes out
To Sandro "Shock"
No one forgets you, brother
Poor hands
This remains, sister
The 24-hour songs run and pass
Tired voices speak of those who have fallen and still live in words
Or on a chest that beats under a gold chain
Misery that reigns in the eyes in the evening
It filled the papers when I was alone with my thoughts
It belonged to where I grew up, my home 470
We held hands every now and then
Staircase of the empty school
And these days remain, poor hands
And it wasn't the time to be indecisive
If you heard me, you know the fire comes out of my voice
After the flashes enter my eyes
I'm here, angel, and I fly back inside
The air is clean and the name rises against the tide of life
And how many brothers with brothers disappeared
The broken glass and the scattered blood are ugly for us
But not for those who split the parts and ran away from life
Thinking about how, searching inside, I can't find the man
All experience amidst those who turn their backs on their conscience
The count of teenage dramas and mothers is lost
Where no tear falls that isn't true
The tightest fists of anger and nothing sustains us
Love me and give me good when I don't deserve it
That's when I need it
I learned it from the priests and I haven't forgotten
I hold the pen, for me it's a challenge
Disappointment is as light as promises
If there was a place, I would come
Don't be moved, it's not a sad piece
This is to say goodbye to those who left young
It's poverty, not memory
You still touch it with your hands
It helps you towards victory
It flows into the things you do
Don't be moved, it's not a sad piece
This is to say goodbye to those who left young
It's poverty, not memory
You still touch it with your hands
It helps you towards victory
It flows into the things you do
For every shot a wrinkle, you can't understand what it was
The air around us burns and God has come
I grew up taking death as a game
Another man falls asleep leaving love outside his dreams
Faster than the days I make fears rise
Leaving this poem aside, I don't want much
And outside these eyes, I have an absurd journey into excesses
I used to chase balls that are now Rolexes
Things fall apart, the wind makes tears fly
Shutters close, but behind them, eyes watch you
And the neighborhood already knows who dies
And outside they still think they're the ones who are wrong
I wonder if money can silence this rage I have
I make irreverence a strength and escape a race
And I want to lie on the ground with trembling eyes
And before the first dead man we see, we will laugh
Few believed that this hate is born from resentment
Few think that this hate grows in schools
And to see their children with emptiness in front and their children beside them
A hand is not worth a finger
A finger is worth a hand
Call him and see if they know in prison how they clench
Looking for life in a letter
They kept quiet and good under the sign of the crosses
And now I know why these boys aren't sweet
Don't be moved, it's not a sad piece
This is to say goodbye to those who left young
It's poverty, not memory
You still touch it with your hands
It helps you towards victory
It flows into the things you do
Don't be moved, it's not a sad piece
This is to say goodbye to those who left young
It's poverty, not memory
You still touch it with your hands
It helps you towards victory
It flows into the things you do
Sandro "Shock"
Lamberto
Annalisa
Francesco
Claudio
Attilio
God bless you, boys