✕
Πρωτότυποι στίχοι
Amerindianu
Muntagne luminose
È stese pulverose
U sole per cumpagnu
Avanzemu
Sò fieri i mo guerrieri
Arditi i mo archeri
Mancu ùn si sentu un lagnu
Cavalchemu
In lu core di li mei
Hè sempre lu veranu
Senza timore
Sanu parlà cù li Dei
U spiritu Maiò
Mai ùn mi stà luntanu
È mi parla pianu pianu
Serenu u mo cininu
Riposa nant'à u spinu
Di a mo donna chì s'arca
Hè un surrisu
Quand'ella dorme infine
Sott'à i raggi turchini
Di a luna
L'usciu varca u Paradisu
In lu core di li mei
Hè sempre lu veranu
Senza timore
Sanu parlà cù li Dei
U spiritu Maiò
Mai ùn mi stà luntanu
È mi parla pianu pianu
Fora intorn'à le fiamme
S'adduniscenu l'alme
In un cantu vulendu sin'à e stelle
Da le bocche sfiatate
Di li vechji cascate
Si sentenu legende è riturnelle
In lu core di li mei
Hè sempre lu veranu
Senza timore
Sanu parlà cù li Dei
U spiritu Maiò
Mai ùn mi stà luntanu
È mi parla pianu pianu
Quandu l'acqua ghjè scarsa
È chì a terra arsa
Diventa infeconda
Noi ballemu
Aspittendu d'un ghjornu
Più bellu lu ritornu
E u celu iracondu
Noi prechemu
In lu core di li mei
Hè sempre lu veranu
Senza timore
Sanu parlà cù li Dei
U spiritu Maiò
Mai ùn mi stà luntanu
È mi parla pianu pianu
Figli di i figli mei
Stu cantu hè dedicatu,
A voi sradicati
Affinchè di li Dei
U Spiritu maiò ùn vi stia luntanu
Voi Indiani Americani
Υποβλήθηκε από 
Sarasvati στις 2018-01-07
Sarasvati στις 2018-01-07Επεξεργάστηκε τελευταία φορά από το χρήστη 
Hampsicora στις 2020-05-13
Hampsicora στις 2020-05-13Μετάφραση
American Indians
Bright mountains
and dusty expanses.
The sun as a friend.
We go ahead.
My warriors are proud,
my archers are brave.
No lament is heard.
We’re riding.
In my people’s hearts
it’s always springtime,
with no fear
they can speak to the Gods.
The Great Spirit
is never away
and speaks quietly to me.
My child, serene,
rests on the back
of my woman who’s bending down
with a smile.
When she finally falls asleep
under the blue beams
of the moon,
the door opens to the paradise.
In my people’s hearts
it’s always springtime,
with no fear
they can speak to the Gods.
The Great Spirit
is never away
and speaks quietly to me.
Outside, around the flames
the souls gather together
in a song that flies to the stars.
From the breathless mouths
of the feeble old men
you can hear tales and refrains.
In my people’s hearts
it’s always springtime,
with no fear
they can speak to the Gods.
The Great Spirit
is never away
and speaks quietly to me.
When there’s lack of water
and the parched soil
becomes infertile,
we dance
waiting for the return
of a better day;
and we pray
to the wrathful sky.
In my people’s hearts
it’s always springtime,
with no fear
they can speak to the Gods.
The Great Spirit
is never away
and speaks quietly to me.
Sons of my sons,
this song is dedicated
to you, uprooted people,
so that the Great Spirit
of the Gods never be away from you,
you, American Indians.
✕
Diana di l'alba: Κορυφαία 3
| 1. | A ghitarra |
| 2. | Ghjochi |
| 3. | Amerindianu |
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