Vamp - Paolo Conte

Tu col tuo bel sorriso amaro

in primo piano, ma cos'??

ti carica come un somaro

di oro e smeraldi, un narghil?

non era America, chiss?

non era Africa, chiss?

la vecchia via del variet?

Tu col tuo passo incomparabile

andavi lenta e incomprensibile

come il voto del dirigibile

sopra la folla impressionabile?

non era America, chiss?

non era Africa, chiss?

la vecchia via del variet?

Io non capivo niente

guardavo la gente

e la faccia che ha e mi aspettavo di tutto

di bello e di brutto

col caldo che fa?

C’era di tutto in quel sorriso

ma in quella stanza quasi niente,

l’aria di un vecchio paradiso

in un silenzio travolgante?

non era America, chiss?

non era Africa, chiss?

la vecchia via del variet?

E i giorni andati sono andati

nel gusto bruto del tamburo

nel fascino di certe stelle

sparate contro il cielo scuro

non era America, chiss?

non era Africa, chiss?

la vecchia via del variet?

Io non capivo un tubo

guardavo il lavabo

e la faccia che fa,

e intanto mi consolavo,

bevevo e fumavo

da un’eternit?

Ma era pur sempre il mio mestiere,

accompagnatore di una star

oasi di carovaniere

?

come avere e non avere?

non era America, chiss?

non era Africa, chiss?

la vecchia via del variet?

You with your beautiful bitter smile

in the foreground, but what?

he charges you like a donkey

of gold and emeralds, a hookah?

it wasn't America, who knows?

it wasn't Africa, who knows?

the old way of the variety?

You with your incomparable step

you went slow and incomprehensible

like the airship's vote

above the emotional crowd?

it wasn't America, who knows?

it wasn't Africa, who knows?

the old way of the variety?

I didn't understand anything

I looked at people

and the face he has and I expected everything

good and bad

what's the heat like?

There was everything in that smile

but in that room almost nothing,

the air of an old paradise

in an overwhelming silence?

it wasn't America, who knows?

it wasn't Africa, who knows?

the old way of the variety?

And the days gone are gone

in the brutal taste of the drum

in the charm of certain stars

shoot against the dark sky

it wasn't America, who knows?

it wasn't Africa, who knows?

the old way of the variety?

I didn't understand a tube

I looked at the sink

and the face he makes,

and in the meantime I consoled myself,

drank and smoked

for an eternity?

But it was still my job,

companion of a star

caravan oasis

?

how to have and not to have?

it wasn't America, who knows?

it wasn't Africa, who knows?

the old way of the variety?