Aug 132016
 

White Rabbit (E cunei biènch)

10th song from the album Surrealistic Pillow (1-Feb-1967)
By Grace Slick (Jefferson Airplane)

Traduzione in dialetto romagnolo a cura di mazapegul:

Una pastina la t’ingranda
E una pastina la t’fa dvantè znin
E quèla cut da la tu mà l’an fa propri un caz
Dmandal ma l’Alice
Quand l’è èlta tri mitar

E se t’de dria mi cunei
E tal se che po t’scapoz
Di cun lou che e lumbreis che fomma e narghilè
U t’ha mandè a ciamè
Par ciamè l’Alice
Quand l’era znina

Quand i suget in t’la scachìra
I sta sò e it dìs du te d’andè
E te magnè cla spezi ad fong
E là tu tèsta l’è un po in tal novli
Dmandal ma l’Alice
Par me lia la sa

Quand la logica e al grandèzzi
Gli è andèdi in te casèin
E e cavalir biènch e scor d’arvers
E la dòna ad cor l’ha pers la tèsta
Arcurdat quèl cu t’ha det e gir
Dà da magnè ma la tu tèsta
Dà da magnè ma la tu tèsta

Testo originale:

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don’t do anything at all
Go ask Alice
When she’s ten feet tall

And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you’re going to fall
Tell ’em a hookah-smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call
Call Alice
When she was just small

When the men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you’ve just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low
Go ask Alice
I think she’ll know

When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen’s off with her head
Remember what the dormouse said
Feed your head
Feed your head

Aug 122016
 

Questo non è le scie chimiche, i zinghiri, la collonizazzione islammica, i kamicazzi frustrati, i klandestini che arrubbano il lavoro, lakkasta dei bankieri, e lammerkel malefica.
Questo è il tuo problema.
Ma non lo devi percepire come tale, infatti ne parla Al Jazeera, i trombettieri nazionali parlano d’altro.
Distrazione appunto.
Ma molto presto sarà tutto archiviato, rimarrà la tua miseria.

Aug 112016
 

Summer’s Almost Gone (L’istèda l’è bèla andèda)

4th song from the album Waiting for the Sun (3-Jul-1968)
Lyrics by Jim Morrison, music by The Doors

Traduzione in dialetto romagnolo a cura di mazapegul:

L’istèda l’è bèla andèda
Sè, l’è bèla che andèda
Duvò ca sarèm
Quand l’istèda la sarà fnida?

La matèina la sa truvè tranquel sènza pansir
E mezdè u sa bruse d’or i cavel
Ad nota a nudèm in te mèr che reid
Quand l’istèda la sarà fnida
Duvò ca sarèm?

L’istèda l’è bèla andèda
A sèm ste propri ben
Ma l’è fnida
L’ariva l’inveran
L’istèda l’è bèla andèda

Testo originale:

Summer’s almost gone
Summer’s almost gone
Almost gone
Yeah, it’s almost gone
Where will we be
When the summer’s gone?

Morning found us calmly unaware
Noon burn gold into our hair
At night we swim the laughin’ sea
When summer’s gone
Where will we be?
Where will we be?
Where will we be?

Morning found us calmly unaware
Noon burn gold into our hair
At night we swim the laughin’ sea
When summer’s gone
Where will we be?

Summer’s almost gone
Summer’s almost gone
We had some good times
But they’re gone
The winter’s comin’ on
Summer’s almost gone

Aug 112016
 

Me and Bobby McGee (Mè e Roberto Mècghì)

7th song from the album Pearl (11-Jan-1971)
by Kris Kristofferson and Fred Foster
Cover by Janis Joplin

Traduzione in dialetto romagnolo a cura di mazapegul:

Strèch s-cènt a Baton Rouge
Aspitèmmi e treno
Quand a s’era sbiavìda cumpagna i mi jeans
Roberto l’ha farmè un camion cun e didòun
Apena prèma che piuves
Cu s’ha purtè dret a New Orleans
Aiò tirè forra la mi armonica inguplèda in tla mi bandana ròssa luzòusa
A sunèva pianein quand Roberto e cantèva e blues
Al spazoli de vèidar las daseva e ritmo
A tniva la mèna ad Roberto cun la mia
Avèm cantè tot al canzouni chi cnos i camiunestar

La libertà l’è soul un’èlta paróla
Par no avèi gnint da perd
Gnint l’ha sens s’un’è lebar
Sè, stè ben l’era fazil
Quand lò e cantèva e blues
Tal se che stè ben par me l’era a sa
L’era a sa par mè e Roberto Mècghì

Da al minìri ad carboun de Kentucky
A e soul dla California
Sè, Roberto l’ha capei i segreti dla mi amna
Cun e soul o cun la piòza
Cun tot quèl ch’avèm fat
Sè, e mi Roberto un m’ha fat ciapè frèd
Un dè dri da Salinas
A l’ho lasè sguilè via
E zarchèva cla cà
E me a spèir cu lepa truvèda
A fareb e cambi cun tot i mi dmèn
Pr’oun ad chi dè
Ch’a tniva Roberto brazè strèt

La libertà l’è soul un’èlta paróla
Par no avèi gnint da perd
Gnint l’ha sens s’un’è lebar
Sè, stè ben l’era fazil
Quand lò e cantèva e blues
Tal se che stè ben par me l’era a sa
L’era a sa par mè e Roberto Mècghì

Testo originale:

Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waitin’ for a train
And I’s feelin’ near as faded as my jeans
Bobby thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained
It rode us all the way to New Orleans

I pulled my harpoon out of my dirty red bandanna
I was playin’ soft while Bobby sang the blues, yeah
Windshield wipers slappin’ time, I was holdin’ Bobby’s hand in mine
We sang every song that driver knew

Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose
Nothin’, don’t mean nothin’ hon’ if it ain’t free, no no
And, feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues
You know, feelin’ good was good enough for me
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee

From the Kentucky coal mine to the California sun
There Bobby shared the secrets of my soul
Through all kinds of weather, through everything we done
Yeah, Bobby baby kept me from the cold

One day up near Salinas, Lord, I let him slip away
He’s lookin’ for that home, and I hope he finds it
But, I’d trade all of my tomorrows, for a single yesterday
To be holdin’ Bobby’s body next to mine

Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose
Nothin’, that’s all that Bobby left me, yeah
But, feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues
Hey, feelin’ good was good enough for me, mm-hmm
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee

La da da
La da da da
La da da da da da da da
La da da da da da da da
Bobby McGhee, yeah

La da da da da da da
La da da da da da da
La da da da da da da
Bobby McGhee, yeah

La da La la da da la da da la da da
La da da da da da da da da
Hey, my Bobby
Oh, my Bobby McGhee, yeah

La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
Hey, my Bobby
Oh, my Bobby McGhee, yeah

Well, I call him my lover, call him my man
I said, I call him my lover did the best I can, c’mon
Hey now, Bobby now
Hey now, Bobby McGhee, yeah

Woo
La da, la da, la da, la da, la da, la da, la da, la la
Hey, hey, hey Bobby McGee, yeah
La da, la da, la da, la da, la da, la da, la da, la
Hey, hey, hey, Bobby McGee, yeah

Aug 112016
 

Hey Joe (Ciou Zvan)

Single A-side (16-Dec-1966)
By Billy Roberts
Cover by Jimi Hendrix

Traduzione in dialetto romagnolo a cura di mazapegul:

Ciou Zvan, du vet cun che s-ciop in tal mèni?
Ciou Zvan, a t’ho det, du vet cun che s-ciop in tal mèni?
Bona, a vag a dè ‘na s-ciuptèda ma la mi vecia
Tal se, a l’ho vesta in zir cun un’èlt
Mo sè, ai vag a dè ‘na s-ciuptèda
A l’ho vesta in zir cun un’èlt
E un’è miga un bèl lavòur

Ciou Zvan, ta le mazèda
Mazèda propri
Ciou Zvan, i m’ha det che ta le mazèda
Ta le stèisa ma tèra

Sè, ai ho dè ona s-ciuptèda
Tal se ca l’ho trova in zir cun un’èlt

Ciou zvan, du vò che t-ciap via adès?
Capess mu mè
A vag zò in tla basa
A vag in te Messico, sè
Zò da là du ca pòs lès lebar
Nisoun e truvarà la mi burdèla
La corda in te còl in m’la met
L’è mèi che tai crèida adès
Aiò d’andè via sobit
L’è mèi t’ciapa via din zò
Ciou Zvan, a te deg
Cor via din zò
Av salout ma tot

Testo originale:

Hey Joe, where you goin’ with that gun of yours?
Hey Joe, I said where you goin’ with that gun in your hand, oh
I’m goin’ down to shoot my old lady
You know I caught her messin’ ’round with another man
I’m goin’ down to shoot my old lady
You know I caught her messin’ ’round with another man
And that ain’t too cool
Huh, hey Joe, I heard you shot your mamma down
You shot her down now
Hey Joe, I heard you shot your lady down
You shot her down in the ground, yeah
Yeah
Yes, I did, I shot her
You know I caught her messin’ round, messin’ round town
Yes I did, I shot her
You know I caught my old lady messin’ ’round town
And I gave her the gun
And I shot her
Alright
Shoot her one more time again, baby
Yeah
Oh, dig it
Oh, alright
Hey Joe
Where you gonna run to now, where you gonna go?
Hey Joe, I said
Where you gonna run to now, where you gonna go?
I’m goin’ way down south
Way down to Mexico way
Alright
I’m goin’ way down South
Way down where I can be free
Ain’t no one gonna find me
Ain’t no hang-man gonna
He ain’t gonna put a rope around me
You better believe it right now
I gotta go now
Hey, Joe
You better run on down
Goodbye everybody

Aug 112016
 

Imagine (Pensa un po)

1st song from the album Imagine (9-Sep-1971)
By John Lennon

Traduzione in dialetto romagnolo a cura di mazapegul:

Pensa un po s’ugni fos e paradeis
L’è fazil s’tai pruv
Gnint inferan sòta noun
Sòra noun sòul e zil
Pensa un po ma tota la zenta
C’la campa sol pr’incùa

Pensa un po s’ugni fos i paeis
Un’è difezil
Gnint d’amazè e gnint par murì
E gnènca la religioun
Pensa un po ma tota la zenta
C’la campa in pèsa

T’pu ènca dì ca sò un sugnadòur
Ma an ciò miga da par mè
Sperèmma che oun ad sti dè t’vegna cun noun
E e mònd e sarà oun soul

Pensa s’ugni fos la proprietà
A voi avdèi st’ai la fe
Sènza bsogn d’lès sgulme o d’fè la fèma
Tot fradel
Pènsa un po ma tota la zenta
Chi fa de mònd un po pr’oun

T’pu ènca dì ca sò un sugnadòur
Ma an ciò miga da par mè
Sperèmma che oun ad sti dè t’vegna cun noun
E e mònd e sarà oun soul

Testo originale:

Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today…

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one