Текст и перевод песни Paolo Conte - Vamp - Live In Montreal / 1988

Vamp - Live In Montreal / 1988

Tu col tuo bel sorriso amaro
In primo piano, ma cos?
Ti carica come un somaro
Di oro e smeraldi, un narghil
Non era America, chiss
Non era Africa, chiss
La vecchia via del variet
Tu col tuo passo incomparabile
Andavi lenta e incomprensibile
Come il voto del dirigibile
Sopra la folla impressionabile
Non era America, chiss
Non era Africa, chiss
La vecchia via del variet
Io non capivo niente
Guardavo la gente
E la faccia che ha
E mi aspettavo di tutto
Di bello e di brutto
Col caldo che fa
Cera di tutto in quel sorriso
Ma in quella stanza quasi niente,
L aria di un vecchio paradiso
In un silenzio travolgante
Non era America, chiss
Non era Africa, chiss
La vecchia via del variet
E i giorni andati sono andati
Nel gusto bruto del tamburo
Nel fascino di certe stelle
Sparate contro il cielo scuro
Non era America, chiss
Non era Africa, chiss
La vecchia via del variet
Io non capivo un tubo
Guardavo il lavabo
E la faccia che fa,
E intanto mi consolavo,
Bevevo e fumavo
Da un eternit
Ma era pur sempre il mio mestiere,
Accompagnatore di una star
Oasi di carovaniere
Come avere e non avere
Non era America, chiss
Non era Africa, chiss
La vecchia via del variet

Vamp - Live In Montreal / 1988

You with your bittersweet smile
In the spotlight, but what?
It loads you up like a donkey
Of gold and emeralds, a hookah
It wasn't America, you know
It wasn't Africa, you know
The old way of the music hall
You with your incomparable pace
You walked slowly and incomprehensibly
Like the vote of the dirigible
Above the impressionable crowd
It wasn't America, you know
It wasn't Africa, you know
The old way of the music hall
I didn't understand anything
I watched the people
And the face they have
And I expected everything
Beautiful and ugly
In this heat
There was everything in that smile
But in that room almost nothing,
The air of an old paradise
In an overwhelming silence
It wasn't America, you know
It wasn't Africa, you know
The old way of the music hall
And the days gone by are gone
In the raw taste of the drum
In the charm of certain stars
Shot into the dark sky
It wasn't America, you know
It wasn't Africa, you know
The old way of the music hall
I didn't understand a thing
I looked at the sink
And the face it makes,
And meanwhile I consoled myself,
I drank and smoked
For an eternity
But it was still my job,
Accompanist of a star
Oasis of caravaners
Like having and not having
It wasn't America, you know
It wasn't Africa, you know
The old way of the music hall