Sabato al Corallo - Vinicio Capossela

Come in sogno

La macchina scivola via

La bocca che sa di fumo, di vino

Di baci a venire e di frenesia

E la pianura s’e' vestita

Di luci gialle nella foschia

La provinciale si fa scintillante

Tutti corrono

Anche se non si sa mai dove andare

Ma eccolo qua il nostro locale

Mai finito sul giornale

Perso nelle nebbie di paese

Ma pieno di macchine

Che sembra una citta'

La musica e' alta e un po' sanguigna

C’e' sempre qualcuno da salutar

Qui non si puo' fare a pugni per una spinta

E bere birra come in Irlanda

E dimenticarsi dell’officina

Che le ragazze son belle e allegre

Ragazze sogni di finto cinema

Ragazze stanche

Delle otto ore

Ma cosa importa

Futuro o no

Stanotte e' sabato e miei amici ubriachi

Son meglio di un film

Ed eccoci qua tutti a far cerchio

A scalciare a vuoto a tempo di rock

Noialtri giovani di provincia emiliana

Cerchiam di bruciar con un po' di grandeur

Come hanno fatto

I fratelli maggiori

Ormai sposati e sistemati

Come in sogno

La macchina scivola via

La bocca che sa di fumo, di vino

Di baci venuti e di nostalgia

Con l’occhio socchiuso mi sembra che

La pianura s’e' vestita

Di luci gialle nella foschia

As in a dream

The car slips away

The mouth that tastes of smoke, of wine

Kisses to come and frenzy

And the plain got dressed

Of yellow lights in the haze

The provincial becomes sparkling

Everyone runs

Even if you never know where to go

But here it is our place

Never ended up in the newspaper

Lost in the mists of the country

But full of cars

That looks like a city

The music is loud and a bit bloody

There is always someone to greet

You can't fight for a push here

And drink beer like in Ireland

And forget about the workshop

That the girls are beautiful and cheerful

Girls dreams of fake cinema

Tired girls

Of the eight hours

But what does it matter

Future or not

Tonight is Saturday and my friends are drunk

They are better than a movie

And here we are all making a circle

To kick in the air in time to rock

The rest of us young people from the Emilia province

Let's try to burn with a little grandeur

How did they do it

The older brothers

Now married and settled

As in a dream

The car slips away

The mouth that tastes of smoke, of wine

Of kisses and nostalgia

With a half-closed eye it seems to me that

The plain has dressed up

Of yellow lights in the haze