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Coda di Lupo

Fabrizio De André
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La versione inglese di Dennis Criteser [2014]
WOLFTAIL

When I was a child I fell in love with everything, I ran after dogs
and from March to February my grandpa watched over
the stream of horses and cows,
over my and your business:
and never believe in the god of the English

And when I was two hundred moons old, maybe more, maybe less,
I stole my first horse and they made me into a man
I changed my name into Wolftail,
I changed my poney for a dumb horse
and never believe in their losing god

It fell about in the night of the long-tailed star,
we found grandpa crucified on the church,
crucified with forks that are used for dinner,
he was dirty and clean with blood and with cream
and never believe in their greedy god

I was eighteen or so and didn't smell of snake anymore
I had an iron bar a hat and a sling
and one gala soirée, with a sharp-edged stone
I killed a tuxedo and stoled it to him
and never believe in the Scala god

Then we came back to Brianza to open buffalo shooting
they made us breath and urine tests,
we were explained the thing by an Andalusian poet,
"for buffalo shooting", said he, "there's numerus clausus"
and never believe in a happy end god

I was already old when near Rome, in Little Big Horn,
a short-haired general made us a college speech
on our brothers in blue overalls burying their war axes
but we didn't smoke with him, he didn't come in peace
and never believe in a plodder god

And now that I've burnt twenty children on my marital bed
that I vented my wrath upon a whole studio
that I learnt to fish with hand grenades
that I was graved in tears on the Arch of Trajan,
with a glass spoon I will dig in my story,
but I strike somewhat at random, my memory's gone
and never
and never
and never believe,
and never believe in a breathless god.
TAIL OF THE WOLF

When I was little
I used to fall in love with everything.
I used to run after the dogs,
and from March to February
my grandpa kept a watch
over the movement of horses
and of darkness,
over my business,
over your business.

And in the god of the English
don't ever believe.

And when I was 200 moons old -
and maybe that
is too much -
I robbed my first horse
and they made me a man.
I changed my name
to “Tail of the Wolf.”
I exchanged my pony
for a silent horse.

And in their losing god
don't ever believe.

And it was in the night
of the long star
with the tail
that we found my grandpa
crucified on the cross,
crucified with forks
that are used at meals.
He was dirty and cleaned
of blood and cream.

And in their greedy god
don't ever believe.

And maybe I was 18
and no longer stank
like a snake,
I owned a rod,
a hat and a sling,
and one gala night
with a pointed rock
I killed a tuxedo
and robbed it from him.

And in the god of the Teatro alla Scala
don't ever believe.

Then we returned to Brianza
for the opening
of the buffalo hunt.
They made us take
a breath and urine test.
He explained to us the workings,
an Andalusian poet.
“For the buffalo hunt,” he said,
“the number is closed.”

And in a god of happy endings
don't ever believe.

And I was already old
when near Rome,
at Little Big Horn,
a short-haired general
spoke to us at the university
about the brothers, all in blue,
who buried the ashes.
But we didn’t smoke with him,
he didn’t come in peace.

And in a work-your-ass-off god
don't ever believe.

And now that I burned
twenty sons on my grooms bed,
that I unloaded my rage
on a sound stage,
that I learned to fish
with hand grenades,
that they sculpted me in tears
on Trajan’s Arch,
with a glass spoon
I dig around in my history.
But I’m striking a bit at random
because I have no memory anymore.

And in a god, and in a god,
and in a god, and in a god,
and in an unbreathing god,
don’t ever believe.


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