Canzone dei dodici mesi ( Αγγλικά μετάφραση)

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Song of the twelve months

January comes, silent and subtle,
a sleeping river
between its banks lies like snow
my ailing body, my ailing body
White rows of fields
lie in the plains,
they look like lovers after an elopement,
those dark, tired trees, those dark, tired trees.
 
February comes and the world keeps its head down,
but in banquets and on squares
ditch your sorrows and dress up as Harlequin,
Carnival is all over the streets, Carnival is all over the streets.
Winter is long still,
but hope springs in the heart
in the first days of sickly sun,
spring is dancing, spring is dancing.
 
March, singing, brings its rains,
the veil of fog is torn,
snowmelt in the creeks carries
the laughter of thaw, the laughter of thaw.
Fill your glass and get rid of winter
and of the useless penance,
the wing of time beats too fast,
you see it and it's already gone, you see it and it's already gone.
 
Oh days, oh months that run away endlessly,
my life is always similar to you,
different every year, yet the same every year,
a hand of tarot cards one never learns to play,
one never learns to play.
 
With long days invested in sleep,
sweet April comes,
what secrets about you were discovered by the poet
who called you cruel, who called you cruel?1
Yet in your days it's lovery to fall asleep
after making love,
as the earth sleeps at night
after a sunny day, after a sunny day.
 
I welcome May2 and the joyful flag3,
I welcome spring,
let the new love push out the old one
in the shade of the evening, in the shade of the evening.
I welcome May and the rose,
the poets' flower,
while I sing of it on my guitar
I drink to Cenne and Folgore, I drink to Cenne and Folgore4
 
June, ripeness of the year,
I thank God for you:
on one of your days, under the hot sun
I came into the world, I came into the world
and with the harvest in your hands
you bring us your treasure
with your ears of wheat you give bread to men
and gold to women, and gold to women.
 
Oh days, oh months that run away endlessly,
my life is always similar to you,
different every year, yet the same every year,
a hand of tarot cards one never learns to play,
one never learns to play.
 
With long days of light colours
here comes July, the lion,
rest, drink, and the world around you
looks like a vision.
No one works, August, in your tired,
long, idle hours,
it was never so enjoyable getting intoxicated
with wine and warmth, with wine and warmth.
 
September is the month of reconsideration
about years and age
after the summer it brings the usual gift
of doubt, of doubt.
You sit down and think and start playing again
with your identity
like sparkles in your fire
opportunities burn, opportunities burn.
 
I'm not sure everyone has understood, October,
your great beauty:
in those fat vats, as large as a full stomach,
you brew must and inebriation, you brew must and inebriation.
On my mountains, like mournful birds,
mad clouds flee,
on my copper-tinged mountains
low clouds raise like smoke, low clouds raise like smoke.
 
Oh days, oh months that run away endlessly,
my life is always similar to you,
different every year, yet the same every year,
a hand of tarot cards one never learns to play,
one never learns to play.
 
November falls and unsettling, heavy fog
covers the orchards,
in gardens consecrated to sorrow
the dead are celebrated, the dead are celebrated .
Rain falls and splashes your face
with dewdrops
one day, fate will turn you as well
into mud on the roads, into mud on the roads.
 
And I fall asleep, as if in hibernation,
at your gates, December,
along your days I spread
the sorrowful seeds of death, the sorrowful seeds of death.
Humans and things cast
feeble, lazy shadows on the ground,
but in your days, as foretold by prophets,
Christ, the tiger, is born, Christ, the tiger, is born.
 
Oh days, oh months that run away endlessly,
my life is always similar to you,
different every year, yet the same every year,
a hand of tarot cards one never learns to play,
one never learns to play.
 
Ευχαριστώ!
thanked 3 times
Υποβλήθηκε από Gyps FulvusGyps Fulvus στις Τετ, 07/02/2018 - 09:26
Επεξεργάστηκε τελευταία φορά από το χρήστη Gyps FulvusGyps Fulvus στις Πέμ, 08/02/2018 - 18:15
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Canzone dei dodici mesi

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Francesco Guccini: Κορυφαία 3
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