Io non mi sento italiano (превод на Английски)

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I don't feel Italian

I, G.G., born and living in Milan,
Don't feel Italian
But luckily, or unfortunately, I am.
 
Forgive me, Mr. President,
It's not my fault
But I really don't know
what this homeland is supposed to be.
I may be wrong,
It might be a good idea,
But I'm afraid it'll turn
Into an ugly poem.
Forgive me, Mr. President,
I don't feel we really need
The national anthem,
Of which I am somewhat ashamed.
As for football players,
I don't want to judge:
Ours just don't know it
Or have a little more pride.
 
I don't feel Italian
But luckily, or unfortunately, I am.
 
Forgive me, Mr. President,
If I dare be insolent enough
To say that I don't feel
Any sense of belonging.
And besides Garibaldi1
And other glorious heroes
I really don't see why
We should be proud.
Forgive me, Mr. President,
But I am thinking of the fanaticism
That characterized the black shirts2
At the time of fascism
From which one day was born
This democracy
That can only be praised
With a lot of imagination.
 
I don't feel Italian
But luckily, or unfortunately, I am.
 
This "Bel Paese",3
Poetic as it is
Has quite a lot of pretensions
But in our western world
We are the suburbs.
 
Forgive me, Mr. President,
But this Nation of ours
That you represent
Seems a little messed up to me.
It's all too clear
To the eyes of the people:
Everything is calculated
And nothing works.
Maybe it's because Italians
Have a long tradition
Of getting too caught up
In any argument.
Even inside the Parliament
There's an incandescent atmosphere:
They'd kill each other over anything,
But then nothing changes.
 
I don't feel Italian
But luckily, or unfortunately, I am.
 
Forgive me, Mr. President,
But you'll have to agree
That we have to make clear
The boundaries that we have.
But defeatism aside,
We are what we are
And we also have a past
That we shouldn't forget.
Forgive me, Mr. President,
But maybe we Italians
For the others are all about
Pizza and mandolins.
That just ticks me off,
And makes me proud and boastful:
I throw in their faces
The Renaissance.
 
I don't feel Italian
But luckily, or unfortunately, I am.
 
This beautiful country
May be a little unwise
It doesn't have a clue
But I could've been born somewhere else,
And might have had it worse.
 
Forgive me, Mr. President
I've said so many things already:
There's one more remark
That I deem important.
Compared with foreigners,
We have a little less faith
But we might have understood
That this world is just a show.
Forgive me, Mr. President,
I know you don't rejoice
Hearing people cry "Italy, Italy"
Only at football matches.
But a little as not to die
Or maybe just to joke around
We've made Europe,
Let's make Italy too.
 
I don't feel Italian
But luckily, or unfortunately, I am.
 
I don't feel Italian
But luckily, or unfortunately,
Luckily, or unfortunately,
Luckily
Luckily I am.
 
  • 1. An important figure of the Italian Risorgimento.
  • 2. Originally, the paramilitary wing of the fascist party.
  • 3. Literally "beautiful country", it is a common epithet for Italy.
Пуснато от Change в Четв, 07/01/2016 - 22:35
Последно редактирано от Change на Втр, 07/06/2016 - 17:01
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Io non mi sento italiano

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