A keresés eredménye

Flag

If you belong to this flag
that gives birth to and resembles these people
coming from warm places
 
Who are they? Who are these people?
Dark eyebrows waiting outside,
and they are all crying alone.
 
One dance, one sound, one language
that we’ll speak and we’ll sing anew.
 
Girl's eyes as a flag
that we’ll help to grow up in a new world.
 
One dance, one sound, one language
with which we’ll paint this world anew.
 
Singing ye-la-la-la-lala-ye-la-la-la
Laughing ye-la-la-la-lala-ye-la-la-la
 
If you, if you cherish it
spread it, take care of it, let it take flight in the wind.
 
You are the flag, flag, flag
 
If you can’t feel it,
your heart says and asks you about it,
you hide your face and flee, but from what?
 
One dance, one sound, one language
that we’ll speak and we’ll sing anew.
 
Girl's eyes as a flag
that we’ll help to grow up in a new world.
 
Singing ye-la-la-la-lala-ye-la-la-la
Laughing ye-la-la-la-lala-ye-la-la-la
 
Singing ye-la-la-la-lala-ye-la-la-la
Laughing ye-la-la-la-lala-ye-la-la-la
 
You are the flag, flag, flag
 

Nobody Noticed

Nobody noticed,
but since you left me
I’m, practically, I’m dead
and nobody noticed.
 
I keep pretending to be alive,
I can speak, I can walk
and sometimes, but only sometimes,
I think I hear you breathing.
 
But at night I’m afraid to dream,
to see you coming suddenly
to teach me to fly.
 
Yes, at night I’m afraid to dream,
to see you coming suddenly
to teach me again to fly.
 
I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m
afraid
of each shadow that comes into this room
I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m
afraid
of the void that your absence has left
 
Nobody noticed,
but since you left me
I’m, practically, I’m dead
and nobody noticed.
 
But at night…
 
Yes, at night I’m afraid to dream,
to see you coming suddenly
to teach me again to fly.
 
I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m
afraid
I’m not going to make a nonsense
I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m
afraid
You made a slaughter of sentiments
 
I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m
afraid
of each shadow that comes into this room
I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m
afraid
of the void that your absence has left
 
Nobody noticed
that I’ve nothing left to give
because, without you, I’m dead
and nobody noticed.
 

Baby Mouflons

Baby mouflons1
are born again
and the spring seems to be caressed
by sun and clear skies,
with not even a shade of dark clouds
that can spoil the mouflons in April.
 
Baby mouflons
are born again,
they’re many and are beautiful
with their brown fur
that looks like an altar cloth
to dedicate masses to hope.
 
A mouflon has no neck bell,
remember, and not even rattles,
because mouflons always walk alone
and can never be heard making noise.
 
Baby mouflons
are born again,
they’re in the heart of their native land
where wild grasses bloom.
Little sorrel mouflons,
let not the big eagle see you.
 

• 1. Literally: Lambs of a female mouflon.

Stone Houses

Franzisca’s1eyes,
big and glittering,
are like a fresh fountain
is hot days.
 
Zosepe2would like
to go back to youth,
he would offer his chest
to stormy winds.
 
The dancer is leaping
with her feet in the air
like a filly,
light in the wind.
 
Mr. Zosepe Ispanta
dances with Franzischedda,3
she’s a young girl
and he’s in his eighties.
 
The moon, with silver eyes,
is flooding the stone houses.
 
Atzara,4an attraction
for all painters,
renewed among the villages
for its lovely flowers.
 
Atzara, beautiful sister
of the unlucky ones,
shining like a star
in cloudy skies.
 
Franzisca’s eyes,
big and glittering,
are like a fresh fountain
is hot days.
 
Zosepe would like
to go back to youth,
he would offer his chest
to stormy winds.
 
The moon, with silver eyes,
is flooding the stone houses.
 

• 1. Frances
• 2. Joseph
• 3. Little Frances
• 4. A mountain village in inner Sardinia

Osposidda

Fire flares,
five cold corpses:
they painted the place in red
in cursed hours.
 
Heavy bullets have fallen
amidst thyme fronds.
Who will mourn for you,
dead of Osposidda?
 
Blindly, weapons
have burned the flowers:
the obsequies are denied
to the unlucky ones.
 
A last sparkle
goes out in the well:
who will mourn for you,
dead of Osposidda?
 
Honking the horn, they carry
you around till the highway:
men are treated like
skins of wild boars.
 
The mercy sucked
a bitter breast:
who will mourn for you,
dead of Osposidda?
 
Warm blood is gushing
from your heart:
not even a gold medal
you’ve got, Vincent.
 
They are crying in sobs
children and wife:
who will mourn for you,
dead of Osposidda?
 
How long will it take,
still, my brother,
before we’ll come out
of barbarity?
 
And the women of the village
won’t sing the dirge anymore?
Who will mourn for you,
dead of Osposidda?
 
Brother!