Текст и перевод песни Mina - Lacreme Napulitane (Live Version; 2001 Remastered Version)

Lacreme Napulitane (Live Version; 2001 Remastered Version)

Mia cara madre,
Sta pe trasì Natale
E a stà luntane cchiù me sape amaro
Comme vurria allummà duie tre biangale
Come vurria sentì nu zampugnaro!
E le ninne mieie facitele o presepio
E a tavola miettite o piatto mio
Facite quanno è a sera d'a Vigilia
Comme si mmiezzo a vuie stesse pur'io
E nce ne costa lacreme st'America
A nuie napulitane
Co' nuie ca nce chiagnimmo 'o cielo 'e Napule
Comme è amaro stu ppane!
Mia cara madre,
Che ssò, che ssò 'e dinare?
Pe che se chiagne a Patria nun so niente
Mo tengo quacche dollaro e me pare
Ca nun so stato maie tanto pezzente!
Ma sonno tutt'e notte 'a casa mia
E d'e criature mieie ne sento 'a voce
Ma a vuie ve sonno comme a 'na Maria
Nt'e state 'mpietto 'nnato figlio 'ncroce.
E nce ne costa lacreme st'America
A nuie napulitane
Co' nuie che ce chiangimmo o cielo 'e Napule
Comme è amaro stu ppane!
M'avite scritto
Che Assuntulella chiamma
Chi l'ha lassata e sta luntana ancora
Che v'aggia a dì? Si 'e figlie vonno 'a mamma
Facitela turnà chella signora
Ma no, nun torno. Me ne resto fore,
E resto a faticà pe tutte quante.
E s'aggio perso patria, casa, onore
I sò carne 'e maciello: so emigrante
E nce ne costa lacreme st'America
A nuie napulitane
Co' nuie che ce chiangimmo o cielo 'e Napule
Comme è amaro stu ppane!

Neapolitan Tears (Live Version; 2001 Remastered Version)

My dearest Mother,
Christmas is almost here
And being so far away makes it even bitter
How I would like to light a few candles
How I would like to hear a bagpipe player!
And my lullabies play them at the nativity scene
And set my plate at the table
Do it when it's Christmas Eve
As if I were there with you
And this America costs us tears
To us Neapolitans
With us who cry for the sky of Naples
How bitter this bread is!
My dearest Mother,
What are, what are the holidays?
I don't know why we cry for the Homeland
Now I have a few dollars and it seems
That I have never been so poor!
But I dream of my home every night
And I hear the voices of my children
But I am to you like a Mary
With her son on the cross in the summer.
And this America costs us tears
To us Neapolitans
With us who cry for the sky of Naples
How bitter this bread is!
You wrote to me
That Assuntulella is calling
Who left her and is still far away
What can I tell you? If the daughters want their mother
Have that lady come back
But no, I'm not coming back. I'm staying out,
I'm staying to work for all of you.
And if I've lost my country, my home, my honor
I'm just a piece of meat: I'm an emigrant
And this America costs us tears
To us Neapolitans
With us who cry for the sky of Naples
How bitter this bread is!