La guerra di Piero (English translation)

La guerra di piedro

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The war of Peter
sleep burried in a field of wheat
it's not the rose it's not the tulip
that are doing tha wake from the shadow of the deep ditches
but there are a thousand of red puppies
along the side of my torrent
I want that the silver coated lights come down
not the corpses of the soldiers anymore
brought in the arms of the current
you were saying that and it was winter
and like others towards hell
you go, sad like someone that has to
the wind spits on your face snow
stop Piero, stop now
let the wind pass a little bit over you
you bring the voice of the dead in the battle
who gave life got in return the cross
but you didn't here that and the time was going by
with the seasons with step of .... (something no quite right here)
and you arrived to cross the borders (could also mean metaphorically frontier)
in a beautiful day of spring
and as you were marching with the soul on your shoulders
you saw a man down the valley
that had your identical mood
but the uniform of another colour
shoot at him Piero, shoot at him now
and after one shot go on shooting him
until you don't see him with anymore blood
fall down on earth to hide his blood
and if I shhot him on the forehead or the heart
only time will be needed for him to die
but I will have time to see
see the eyes of a dying man
and as you are using this kindness
he turns around, sees you and is afraid
and as he embraxes the artillery
he is not as polite as you were
you would drop on the floor without a sigh
and you would understand in only one moment
that time wouldn't be enough for you
to ask forgiveness for every sin of yours
you would drop on the floor without a sigh
and you would understand in only one moment
that your life was ending that day
and there would be no come back
my Ninetta die on May
wants much too much courage
Beautiful Ninetta straight to hell
I would have prefered to go during winter
and as the wheat was standing by to hear you
inside your hands you were holding a rifle
inside your mouth you were holding words
way off frozen to be melted under the sun
sleep burried in a field of wheat
it's not the rose it's not the tulip
that are doing tha wake from the shadow of the deep ditches
but there are a thousand of red puppies
 
Submitted by tzina772000tzina772000 on Thu, 09/10/2008 - 21:00
ItalianItalian

La guerra di Piero

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