The son of the emigrant / Lu figghiu di l’emigranti

Lu figghiu di l’emigranti    

Chianci lu picciriddu ‘ntra la naca,
la vucca a cucchiaredda e fa ngua ngua,
pensa la nanna mentri chi I’ annaca:
-chiama la mamma 0 chiama lu papa’ ?

Ma la mamma nun c’e’, nun c’e’ papa`
ca sunnu a I’ estru in cerca di furtuna,
-E tu pero’ nun chianciri curuzzu,
ca la nannuzza tua nun t’ abbannuna.

‘Ntimo , ‘ntimo’ ti dugnu la pappuzza,
stenni li vrazza, pari ca mi ridi,
tale’, tale’ com’apri la vuccuzza,
fa comu I’ acidduzza ‘ntra li nidi.

Ora, curuzzu miu, fa la bo` bo`,
chiudi l’ucchiuzzi, bravu d’ accussi’ ,
eccu ca lu sunnuzzu ti calo`,
dormi ca poi ti portu a la diddi’ .-

P. Collurafici

 The son of the emigrant

Cries the baby even in the crib
the little mouth open says  ngoue`,
thinks grandma, while the crib rocks:
-Does he call mommy or maybe papa?

Mommy is not here, neither is daddy,
they are abroad for a better venture,
-Oh, you little one, don’t cry, my heart,
will never live you alone your grandma.

Here, here, I give you some food,
he opens his harms, looks like he smiles,
look, look how he opens his mouth,
seems a baby bird in the nest.

Now, my little heart do go to sleep,
like that, there, close your eyes,
see, sleep already came, rest a little,
sleep and then bye bye we’ll go-.

   Translation by Nino Russo

 

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