Il 3 dicembre del '39

Francesco Guccini
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OriginalEnglish prose translation / Traduzione inglese in prosa / Traduction...

Il tre dicembre del trentanove a stare al mondo volli provar:
mio padre, uomo ligio al partito, nome "Benito" mi volle dar.
Mia madre, santa donna di Dio, aggiunse un "Pio" per contentar
uno zio prete, che per commosso ringraziamento mi battezzò.

Appena giunto su questa terra ci fu la guerra, e il genitor
che fu dei primi ad andar via, dall'Albania mai più tornò.
Mia madre allora cercò lo zio per dirgli: "Pio, che mangerà?"
Egli rispose di aver pazienza: "La Provvidenza, vi aiuterà..."

La provvidenza ci ha poi aiutati con i soldati della Wehrmacht,
poi dopo l'8 seguii gli eventi, e fui parente dello zio Sam.
Mia madre, donna di gran pietà, cercò in politica verginità...
sulla sua porta ci scrisse "Mary", scordai la lupa, mi chiamai "Jack"...

Quarantacinque, finì la guerra, ma in questa terra pace non c'è,
il parabellum fanno cantare per festeggiare la libertà.
Mia madre allora, che fiutò l'aria, fu proletaria e si sposò
un pezzo grosso del C.L.N. e io divenni "Benski-Stalìn".

I giorni passano, i tempi cambiano, i fronti cadono, la piazza calmasi,
restaurazione, televisione, boom economico, seicento Fiat.
Mia madre, donna di grande amore, sentì nel cuore l'error di un dì:
fu clericale, democristiana, e nella lana fede trovò.

Ora ho una fabbrica, solo un affanno: un miliardo all'anno appena mi dà!
Io son per la D.C., ma di sinistra, e socialista diventerò.
Mia madre, donna ormai d'età, morì in odore di santità...
Io chiesa, nobili e terzo stato sempre ho fregato solo per me!


On 3 December 1939, I decided to try and come to this world: so my father, a man loyal to the Fascist National Party, gave me the name of “Benito”. My mother, a God-fearing pious woman, added “Pio” to gratify one of my uncles, who was a priest and baptized me with thankful, deep emotion. No sooner had I come to the world than the war broke out; my father was among the first ones who left for war, and he never came back home from Albania. So, my mother went to see my uncle, the priest, and asked him: “So, tell me, what's Pio going to eat now...?” “Be patient”, he replied; “Providence will help you”. Well, as a matter of fact, Providence helped us through the Wehrmacht soldiers; then, after the armistice of 8 September 1943, I adapted myself to the circumstances and became closely related with Uncle Sam. My mother, a definitely devout woman, tried to recover virginity in politics: she wrote “Mary” on home door, I had to forget the Capitoline Wolf and became “Jack” by name. 1945, the war came finally to an end, but there's no peace on earth: machine guns are still popping in sign of joy for liberty. So, my mother, who scented what was happening, turned a communist and got married with a bigwig of the National Liberation Committee, and I got called “Bensky Stalin”. The days went by. Times are changing, fronts are falling, peace is re-established and concord is restored; the boom years came with television and mass motorization. So, my loving mother, blaming herself for all mistakes past, felt great regret in her heart and turned a clericalist supporter of Christian Democracy, finding new impulses for her faith in textile industry. Now I am the owner of a big woolmill, yet I have one big worry: profit is only 1 billion per year! I support Christian Democracy left-wing tendencies, but am going to become a Socialist. My mother reached high age and passed away in the odour of sanctity; as for me, I've always been cheating everybody for my own profit, the Clergy, the Nobility and the Third State...!

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