Текст и перевод песни The Vad Vuc feat. Modena City Ramblers - Thousands are Sailing

Thousands are Sailing

L′ísula l'è silenziusa adèss
Ma gh′è fantasmi ammò nal mar
La fiácula ris'ciara un óm
Che la furtüna pò mía salvá
T'é lavuraa ala feruvía
T′é lassaa pèrd i delinquént
Mò i danée ta i a dá la White House
E i è da cinch e dés ghéi

Al veci cansoun t′èin piasudi o no
T'an fat zigher ancàra
T′e cunté i mes e i an
O àl to lùsghi i s'in bele schedi?
Mo bei – al dis – l′é mia acsé
Io vest l'America d′na casa da mort
A sòun mai andé acsé luntan
Ch'i m'an cambié al nom

Thousands are sailing
Across the Western Ocean
Una tèra d′upurtünitá
Che tanti da lur mai i vedará
Fortune prevailing
Across the western ocean
Al budrighi pin e al spirit léber
I sbragheran al cadèini d′la poverté
E i balèran...

Int la bassora èd Manhattan
Quand mor al dop mes-dé
A sàm ste man in d'la man a Broadway
Come al prém òm inséma a-la luna
E al Blackbird l′à ròt al silènzi
Quand t'é s-ciflé acsé dolzemeint
E in t′al pistedi éd Brendan Behan
A-i'ò balé só e zó per la via

Gh′ém dii bóna nòtt a Broadway
E gh'ém lassaa i nostri "best regards"
Pö gió ul capèll par Mister Cohan
Cantúr d'una vòlta dénta al bar
E gh′ém valzaa un bücér a JFK
Una deséna da vòlt almén
Quand sun turnaa nala mè stanza
Ma par d′avé piangiüü par bén

Thousands are sailing
Again across the Ocean
Quand la man dal ocasiòun
Tira fòra di bigliett d'la lòteria
Postcards we′re mailing
Of sky-blue sky and oceans
In di cabinn la lüs dal dí gh'è mai
Però anca sénza lüs par l′albur da Natál
Sa pò balá cun la müsica, balá...

Thousands are sailing
Across the Western Ocean
Quand la man da l'upurtünitá
La diségna biglitt da lutería
Where e′er we go we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees
Dala pagüra di prèvad vöi d'amúr
Dal séns da culpa vèrs ul Signúr
E pö balá cun la müsica, balá...

Thousands are Sailing

The island is now silent,
But ghosts still linger in the sea.
A torch illuminates a man
That the storm could not save.
You worked on the railroad,
You left because of the criminals.
Now the White House gives you money,
And it is worth five hundred dollars.

Did you like the old songs or not?
You still like them somewhat.
You count the months and the years,
Or have your eyes become worn?
Perhaps – he said – it is not so,
I saw America from a house of death.
I have never been so far away
That I changed my name.

Thousands are sailing
Across the Western Ocean
A land of opportunity
That many of them will never see.
Fortune prevailing
Across the western ocean
The sails are full and the spirit is free
They will break the chains of poverty
And they will dance...

In the slums of Manhattan,
When the afternoon ends,
We held hands on Broadway
Like the first man on the moon.
And the Blackbird broke the silence
When you whistled so sweetly.
And in the footsteps of Brendan Behan,
We danced up and down the street.

We said good night to Broadway
And we left our "best regards"
So raise your hat to Mister Cohan,
Singer of a time in the bar.
And we drank a bottle to JFK,
At least ten times.
When I returned to my room,
But to having cried for good.

Thousands are sailing
Again across the Ocean
When the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets from the lottery.
Postcards we′re mailing
Of sky-blue sky and oceans
In the cabins there is never daylight
But even without light for the Christmas tree,
You can dance to the music, dance...

Thousands are sailing
Across the Western Ocean
When the hand of opportunity
Draws lottery tickets.
Where e′er we go we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees
From fear of greedy men of love
From guilt towards the Lord
And then dance to the music, dance...