Disamistade
Fabrizio De AndréLa versione inglese di Dennis Criteser [2014] | |
DISAMISTADE What are these souls doing in front of the church? These divided people, this suspended story An daya ho An daya ho An arm's length away that is the distance of the offense Peace is considered but the peace is barely grazed An daya ho An daya ho Two families without blood Draw up and surrender And for everyone involved The pain is shared The other's pain is half their own The war of the heart is content Content with empty causes The lament of a dog struck down by the shadow of a step Satisfied with brief agony Long the street of the house An eruption of blood An absence prepared for the meal And with the shots of the hunter Surrounding, one begs for one's fortune What are our daughters doing Embroidering and sewing All these stains of mourning Who've given up to love An daya ho An daya ho Amid them it still hides Our wandering hope That the enemy desires Desires to be returned An daya ho An daya ho Hastened hands caught in the act The act of touching other hands There must be another way of living Of living without pain A rush of eyes into eyes Only to discover, that instead It's only the pause of the wind It's only hatred by half And the authority is dedicated to the missing half This disamistade Is opposed to our misadventure To this race of time To the dishevel of our fate and fortune What are these souls doing In front of the church These divided people This suspended story. | BLOOD FEUD [1] What are they doing, these souls in front of the church, this people divided, this history on hold? At arm's length away, at the distance of an offence, that peace is considered, that peace comes close, two unarmed blood families line up to surrender, and for everyone the pain of the others is halfway pain. It contents itself with lightweight causes, the war of the heart: the lament of a dog felled by a passing shadow. It satisfies itself with quick agonies on the way home: a burst of blood, an absence set at the dinner table. And at every gunshot of the hunt hereabouts, one asks for good fortune. What are these children doing embroidering, sewing these stains of mourning, having given up on love? Among them is hiding a misplaced hope that the enemy wants, that he wants back. And a rush of hands, surprised to touch the hands, for there must be a way to live without sorrow. A race of eyes, in the eyes to discover that instead it’s merely a resting of the wind, a hatred halfway through, and to the missing part the authorities are dedicated, that the blood feud counters our misfortune, this passing of time to break up a pair: destinies and good fortune. What are these souls doing in front of the church, this people divided, this history on hold? |
[1] Nell'indice delle canzoni, Dennis Criteser intitola la canzone Enmity (traduzione letterale di "Disamistade"). Il titolo che poi dà veramente alla traduzione è una sua (fortunata) interpretazione. |