Текст и перевод песни Marcella Bella - Il poeta

Il poeta

Alla sera, al caffè con gli amici, si parlava di donne e motori,
Si diceva son gioie e dolori,
Lui piangeva e parlava di te,
Se si andava in provincia a ballare,
Si cercava di aver le più belle,
Lui restava guardare le stelle,
Sospirava e parlava di te,

Alle carte era un vero campione,
Lo chiamavano il ras del quartiere
Ma una sera giocando a scopone,
Perse un punto parlando di te,

Ed infine una notte si uccise,
Per la gran confusione mentale,
Un peccato perché era speciale,
Proprio come parlava di te,

Ora dicono, fosse un poeta che sapesse parlare d'amore,
Cosa importa se in fondo uno muore,
E non può più parlare di te...

The poet

In the evening, at the coffee shop with friends, we talked about women and motors,
We said they are joys and sorrows,
He cried and talked about you,
If we went to the province to dance,
We tried to have the most beautiful,
He stood gazing at the stars,
He sighed and talked about you,

At cards he was a real champion,
They called him the neighborhood ace,
But one evening playing scopone,
He lost a point talking about you,

And finally one night he killed himself,
For the great mental confusion,
A pity because he was special,
Just like he talked about you,

Now they say, he was a poet who could talk about love,
What does it matter if in the end one dies,
And can no longer speak of you...