Nicole - I Cugini Di Campagna
С переводом

Nicole - I Cugini Di Campagna

Альбом
Tu sei tu
Год
2016
Язык
`Italian`
Длительность
324220

Below is the lyrics of the song Nicole , artist - I Cugini Di Campagna with translation

Lyrics " Nicole "

Original text with translation

Nicole

I Cugini Di Campagna

Оригинальный текст

Ho sudato ed ho bruciato, tutti quanti i sogni miei;

ho diviso le mie scarpe, col tuo pane e gli anni tuoi.

Ho lottato ed ho gridato, tra la folla insieme a te;

quanti rischi ho mendicato, sotto il cielo di Mont-martre.

E Parigi, aveva l’alito del nome tuo

nel fango e sopra i marciapiedi di Pigalle.

Con la polvere gettata dentro gli occhi, io

cercavo solo un posto, a te vicino.

E vorrei poterti dire, lontana dove sei

che ti ho voluto un bene vero e grande da morire.

Nicole,

sei stata la mia prima poesia

la prima amica, della vita mia.

Oh Nicole, Nicole…

Oh Nicole, Nicole…

Quante notti ho progettato e fatto quadri insieme a te

e ho intrecciato le mie dita, sopra un libro di Prevert.

Ho rubato ed ho contato, le monete e le collane

con i lividi pagati per quel prezzo, insieme a te.

E la Senna trasportava, le ambizioni mie

tornava verso casa, ma io no.

Sotto i ponti, tra le sbarre o presso i crocevia

tossivo e ti venivo piùvicino.

E vorrei poter mentire e fingere, che tu

mi hai dato un bene vero e grande da morire.

Перевод песни

I sweated and burned, all my dreams;

I shared my shoes, with your bread and your years.

I fought and I shouted, in the crowd with you;

how many risks have I begged, under the sky of Mont-martre.

And Paris had the breath of your name

in the mud and on the sidewalks of Pigalle.

With the dust thrown into my eyes, me

I was just looking for a place, close to you.

And I wish I could tell you, far away where you are

that I loved you true and great to death.

Nicole,

you were my first poem

the first friend of my life.

Oh Nicole, Nicole ...

Oh Nicole, Nicole ...

How many nights have I designed and made paintings with you

and I intertwined my fingers over a Prevert book.

I stole and counted the coins and necklaces

with the bruises paid for that price, along with you.

And the Seine carried my ambitions

he was returning home, but I did not.

Under bridges, between bars or at crossroads

I coughed and came closer to you.

And I wish I could lie and pretend that you

you gave me a real and great good to die for.

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