Canzone quasi d’amore
Almost a love song
I won’t look anymore for words that I can’t find
To tell you the same old things pretending they are new
Or to tell you, as usual, how I feel empty inside
Lingering on my thoughts and on my memories
Playing with my days, with time
And so, shall I tell you that I have cut my hair
Or that almost all ports are closed for my ships
I always speak and speak, but I still have no faith
I do not want to boast about myself, my life,
Pressed like toes in tight shoes.
You know these things, for we all are the same
Ans we die every day of the same illnesses
For we all are alone, and we are destined
To try clumsy flights with our actions and words
You know these things, you know where the grace
And deadly tediousness of country life begin
For we all are the same, we are good and bad,
We got the same illnesses, we’re cowardly and bold,
Wise, false, sincere, and fool...
But where will you go? Where did you already go?
I give you, if you want, this used boredom
Keep it in memory, but it’s no capital
It won’t take much time before you understand
That it’s not worth another’s boredom
You see, on the other hand, I still write songs
And I pay for my home, I pay for my illusions
Pretending to understand that life is being sleepy
Or hungry, and meeting, having babies and eating,
Drinking, reading, loving, or scratching...
Almost a love song
I won’t look anymore for words that I can’t find
To tell you the same old things pretending they are new
Or to tell you, as usual, how I feel empty inside
Lingering on my thoughts and on my memories
Playing with my days, with time
And so, shall I tell you that I have cut my hair
Or that almost all ports are closed for my ships
I always speak and speak, but I still have no faith
I do not want to boast about myself, my life,
Pressed like toes in tight shoes.
You know these things, for we all are the same
Ans we die every day of the same illnesses
For we all are alone, and we are destined
To try clumsy flights with our actions and words
You know these things, you know where the grace
And deadly tediousness of country life begin
For we all are the same, we are good and bad,
We got the same illnesses, we’re cowardly and bold,
Wise, false, sincere, and fool...
But where will you go? Where did you already go?
I give you, if you want, this used boredom
Keep it in memory, but it’s no capital
It won’t take much time before you understand
That it’s not worth another’s boredom
You see, on the other hand, I still write songs
And I pay for my home, I pay for my illusions
Pretending to understand that life is being sleepy
Or hungry, and meeting, having babies and eating,
Drinking, reading, loving, or scratching...
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