Verranno a chiederti del nostro amoreFabrizio De André
|La versione inglese di Dennis Criteser |
|THEY'LL COME AND ASK YOU ABOUT OUR LOVE|
When, well before you get amazed,
they'll come and ask you about our love
to those people so skilled in gaining persuasion
don't give in too much haste
so a long lasting love.
Don't let your lips be clogged up with too many words,
your lips so restrained in the fantasies of love
and, after love, so firm in taking shelter in the always
and in false minded nevers
I haven't been able to change you,
you didn't change me, you know.
They'll bring a mirror behind their microphones
so that you look nicer and think of me as an old man,
so show them a makeup you didn't use with me,
and they'll get astonished
that I wasn't enough for you.
Tell them that I threw power away from my hands
where love wasn't grown up and I left scratches on your breast
then coming back after love
to the caresses of love,
it was so easy, then
You haven't been able to change me,
I didn't change you, you know.
Tell them they've always given me back your eyes
like flowers presented in May and returned in November,
your eyes like returnable bottles for your employers,
your eyes employed since three years,
your eyes in their possession.
Now good for combing plages with the excuse of searching for coral
or for throwing oneself into a cinema with a stone around the neck
and too tired not to be ashamed
to confess it in my eyes,
really the same as yours
They've been able to change us,
they did change us, you know.
But letting others be unaware of all this,
tell me, how does one feel without any program?
Will you admire yourself on so much as to wear yourself at your finger,
will you make love out of love
or to get it assured?
Will you go to live with Alice, who makes whisky by distilling flowers
or with a donjuan who promises you to introduce you to his parents
or will you stay, far more simply,
where a moment is the same as any,
without asking to yourself why?
Will you keep on being chosen,
or, finally, will you make a choice?
|THEY'LL COME TO ASK YOU ABOUT OUR LOVE|
When, before you even know about it, to your amazement
they come to ask you about our love,
to those people consumed with grabbing one's attention,
a love so long,
don’t you give it to them so easily.
Don’t throw your lips open to a snarl of words,
your lips so restrained in the fantasies of love,
after love so secure in taking refuge in the “forevers,”
in the hypocrisy of the “nevers.”
I haven’t managed to change you,
you haven’t changed me, you know.
And off camera they’ll bring a mirror
to make you more beautiful and, thinking I’m old already,
you give them a makeup you never wore with me.
And they'll be astonished
that you weren’t enough for me.
Just tell them that power, I hurled it from my hands
where love wasn’t grown-up,
and I left scratches on your breasts,
to return after love-making
to the caresses of love.
It was easy at the time.
You weren’t able to change me,
I didn’t change you, you know.
Tell them your eyes always came back to me
like flowers bestowed in May, given back in November,
your eyes like returnable containers
for whoever gave you work,
your eyes hired for three years,
your eyes for them,
now good for sifting beaches
under the pretext of cheap red,
or for throwing yourself into a movie
with a stone at your neck,
and too tired to not feel ashamed,
to confess it in mine eyes,
just identical to yours.
They managed to change us,
they managed to, you know.
But without others knowing anything about it,
tell me without a program, tell me what it feels like.
You’ll keep admiring yourself
so much you'll want to wed yourself.
You’ll make love for love’s sake,
or to have it guaranteed.
You’ll go live with Alice,
who makes herself whiskey distilling flowers,
or with a Casanova
who promises to introduce you to his parents,
or you’ll remain more simply
where one moment deserves another,
without asking yourself how come.
You'll continue to make yourself choose,
or finally you will choose.