Water-sweet, water-sweet but of a kind of sweet that no one wants to drink
Water tired and swollen water sucks the oars and the legs of the children
Laundress, on the shore, with your washboard to support your knees
The soap and the shirt, she rubs clothes and the reflection of the mountains
And this wandering wave is a tongue that wets the words
A tongue that cuts and a tongue that is round, first she is shy and then splashes all over
Water-sweet, water-sweet too high to be caressed
Water clear or filthy, too old to take off her underpants
Under the belly of every boat and over the head of every stone
Above the rosary of every memory... but not a step will remain on you
Not even the sun whipping your back or the moon wetting its feet
Not even the sword of every storm will be able to leave a drawing on you
Water-sweet, water-sweet, water that escapes and then it returns
Glass water and pearl water ready for everyone but waiting for no one
We have a turtle face and we have a cooked fish face
We have a face that seems to belong to you and now we see you without looking at you
Someone escaped from the stench of the seaweed and then returned to wash his hands
Someone spat on your wave and then came back with one more tear
Water-sweet, water-sweet how much water fills these eyes
Black water without guilt, water that is holy without reason
And a boat passes and a winter passes and a war passes and the fishes pass
The wind that steals your cloak passes and the mist that covers the stars passes
Fisherman who leaves the shore in the Breva1 who bites the clothes
Row your feet on this leaf that is swinging with the song you wish it would never end......
1. The Breva is the name of a periodic thermal wind characteristic of the Lake Como area that blows with constant force. It runs from south to north and usually brings good weather.