Il reduce

Davide Van De Sfroos
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OriginalEnglish version - The Veteran – piemar 2015
Spècia un attim a cascià via 'l suu
e a lassamm da par me cun l'umbriia
in soel muur la tua cruus par che dunda
quand che pizzi 'l camèn
La pultruna cugnuss el me pees
ma a sfundàla l'è questa memoria
che ò'è scià cul so fiaa de zampogna
per mea famm durmì
e se vardi sto guantu de pell
cun suta un pugn faa de legn
se dumandi se la ma che ho perduu
l'è dree amò a sparà
O forsi l'è sta'l to regaal
strepamm via quela man sciagurada
che pregava per mea fass cupà
e sparava sparava sparava
a oltra geent che sparava
e sparava sparava sparava
a oltra geent che pregava
Wait a moment to chase away the sun
And to leave me alone with the shadow
On the wall your cross seems to swing
When I light the fireplace
The armchair knows my weight
But sinking in it is this memory
That comes with its bagpipe breath to keep me from sleep.
When I watch this leather glove
With a wooden fist underneath
I wonder if the hand I lost is still shooting
Or maybe it was your present
to tear that wicked hand off of me
That prayed not to be killed
and shooted, shooted, shooted at other shooting people
and shooted, shooted, shooted at other praying people
Eri mai cupaa gnaa un fasàn
e ho trataa sempru bee anca i furmiigh
serum in tanti cargà in soe quel trenu
come foej destacàa
e imparaum la geografia
nel cunta ogni siit che brusava
E la scendra de tuta l'Europa
Per el viaggio de nozz cun la mort
hemm cataa foe Nikolajewka
e brindavum col giazz e cul foec
e'l muson ne la palta
E la spusa vestida de negru
Quanta geent l'ha purta insoel so altaar
e intaant che ghe davi la man
la girava la facia luntan
verso quei che basava
e però la lassav 'l so anell
a sto omm che turnava
I had never even killed a pheasant
And I have always treated kindly even the ants
We were many, loaded on that train, like detached leaves (*)
And we learned the geography
By counting every place that was burning
And the ash of all Europe
I've still got it in (my) mouth
For the honeymoon with the death
We have picked out Nikolaevka
And we toasted with ice and fire and the snout in the mud...
And the bride dressed in black
How many people did she bring on her altar
And while I gave her my hand
She was turning her face away,
Towards them that she kissed,
But she left her ring to this man who was coming back
La tua cruss la g'ha sempru trii cioo
e la mia uviameent voen in menu
ma son qui con la stessa preghiera
come ogni sera
Te la scrivo col sangue non speso
e una penna nera
Your cross still has three nails
And mine, of course, one less
But I'm here with the same prayer, like every evening
I'm writing it with the unspent blood and a black pen
In my opinion, the most tragic, poetic and beautiful song by De Sfroos. It is about an Italian veteran, who fought at the battle of Nikolaevka (World War II), lost his shooting hand in some battle, and now tells Jesus about his memories.
The line "like detached leaves" is a reference to a famous poem by G. Ungaretti (Soldati), which compares soldiers to autumn leaves, ready to fall from their tree.

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