Текст и перевод песни Fabrizio De André - Creuza de Ma - live tour 'Creuza de ma'

Creuza de Ma - live tour 'Creuza de ma'

Umbre de muri muri de mainé
Dunde ne vegnì duve l′è ch'ané
Da ′n scitu duve a l'ûn-a a se mustra nûa
E a neutte a n'à puntou u cutellu ä gua
E a muntä l′àse gh′é restou Diu
U Diàu l'é in çë e u s′è gh'è faetu u nìu
Ne sciurtìmmu da u mä pe sciugà e osse da u Dria
E a funtan-a di cumbi ′nta cä de pria

E 'nt′a cä de pria chi ghe saià
Int'à cä du Dria che u nu l'è mainà
Gente de Lûgan facce da mandillä
Qui che du luassu preferiscian l′ä
Figge de famiggia udù de bun
Che ti peu ammiàle senza u gundun

E a ′ste panse veue cose ghe daià
Cose da beive, cose da mangiä
Frittûa de pigneu giancu de Purtufin
Çervelle de bae 'nt′u meximu vin
Lasagne da fiddià ai quattru tucchi
Paciûgu in aegruduse de lévre de cuppi

E 'nt′a barca du vin ghe naveghiemu 'nsc′I scheuggi
Emigranti du rìe cu'I cioi 'nt′I euggi
Finché u matin crescià da puéilu rechéugge
Frè di ganeuffeni e dè figge
Bacan d′a corda marsa d'aegua e de sä
Che a ne liga e a ne porta ′nte 'na creuza de mä

Creuza de Ma - live tour 'Creuza de ma'

Shadows of mulberry trees
From where do they come? Where will they go?
From a place where loneliness reveals itself
And night has raised its blade in the water
And the donkey's gone to the mountain, God remains
The Devil's there and he's built his nest
We come out of the sea to dry the bones of the Drias
And the fountain of the valleys in the stone house

And in the stone house, who will there be?
In the house of the Drias, that is not brought up
People of Lûgan, with faces like handkerchiefs
Who from luxury prefer toil
Sons of good families
Who can be watched without shame

And to these old fools what shall we give?
Something to drink, something to eat
Fried whitebait from Portofino
Sheep's brains in the same wine
Lasagna to be divided into four pieces
Fried rabbit in sweet and sour sauce

And on the boat of wine we sail on the rocks
Emigrants of laughter, with joy in our eyes
Until the morning that grows from the rooster's cry
Brother of rogues and sons
Bacchanalian of rotten rope, water and salt
That binds us and carries us on a sea cliff