Текст и перевод песни Roberto Murolo - Lacreme Napulitane - Remastered

Lacreme Napulitane - Remastered

Mia cara madre
Sta pe' trasi' natale
E a sta' luntano chiu'
Me sape amaro
Comme vurria appiccia'
Duje tre biancal
Comme vurria senti' nu zampugnaro
'E ninne mie facitele 'o presepio
E a tavola mettite 'o piatto mio
Facite quanno è a sera da' vigilia
Comme si' mmiezo a vuje
Stesse pur' io
E 'nce ne costa lacreme st' america
A nuje napulitane
Pe' nuie ca 'nce chiagnimmo
O cielo e napule
Comme è amaro stu' pane
Mia cara madre che sso'
Che sso' 'e denare?
Pe' chi se chiagne a patria
Nun so' niente
Mo tengo quacche dollaro e me pare
Ca nun so' stato maie tanto pezzente
Me sonno tutt 'e notte a casa mia
E d"e criature meie ne sento 'a voce
Ma a vuie ve sonno comm 'a na' maria
Cu 'e spade 'mpietto
'Nnanz 'o figlio 'ncroce
E 'nce ne costa lacreme st' america
A nuje napulitane
Pe' nuje ca 'nce chiagnimmo
'O cielo e napule
Comm' è amaro stu' pane
M'avite scritto
Che assuntulella chiamma
Chi l'ha lassata
Sta' luntana ancora
Che v'aggia di'
Si 'e figlie vonno 'a mamma
Facitela turna' a chella signora
Io no nun torno me ne resto fore
E resto a fatica' pe tutte quante
Jo c'aggio perzo a casa patria e onore
Io so' carne 'e maciello so' emigrante
E 'nce ne costa lacreme st' america
A nuje napulitane
Pe' nuje ca 'nce chiagnimmo
'O cielo e napule
Comme è amaro stu pane

Lacreme Napulitane - Remastered

My dear mother
Christmas is almost here
And I'm so far away
It pains my heart
How I'd love to light
Two or three candles
How I'd love to hear a bagpiper
And have my children make the nativity scene for me
And set a place for me at the table
On Christmas Eve, I'll make it seem
As if I were among you
Even I was there
And oh, how America costs us tears
To us Neapolitans
For us who weep for
The sky and Naples
How bitter this bread is
My dear mother, what good is money
What good is money?
To one who yearns for his homeland
It's nothing at all
Now I have a few dollars and I feel
Like I've never been so poor
I spend all night at home
And I can hear the voices of my children
But to you I am like a statue of Mary
With a sword through her heart
Standing before her crucified son
And oh, how America costs us tears
To us Neapolitans
For us who weep for
The sky and Naples
How bitter this bread is
You wrote to me
That little Assunta is crying
Whoever left her
Is still far away
What can I say?
If your daughters want their mother
Make that lady come back to them
As for me, I'm not coming back, I'll stay away
And I'll keep working for all of you
I've lost my home, my country, and my honor
I'm just a piece of meat, an immigrant
And oh, how America costs us tears
To us Neapolitans
For us who weep for
The sky and Naples
How bitter this bread is