Crêuza de mä [English translation]

Shadows of faces, sailor's faces,

Wherever do you come from? Where are you going?

From a place where the moon shows herself naked

and the night points his knife at our throats.

The only one left riding the donkey is God:

the Devil is in Heaven and there he has built his nest.

Let's go out from the sea to dry our bones at Andrea’s place,

at the doves fountain in the stone house.

And in the stone house, whoever may be there,

inside Andrea's house, that isn't a sailor?

People from Lugano, faces of pickpockets

for which the choice part of the seabass is the wing;

good family girls, smelling good:

you can watch them without a condom.

And what will he give to these empty bellies?

What to drink? What to eat?

A little fried fish, white Portofino wine,

lamb brain (cooked) in the same wine,

homemade lasagna topped with four sauces,

roof-rabbit* pie in sweet-and-sour sauce.

And in the wine boat we'll sail between the rocks

laughing emigrants with nails in our eyes

until the morning grows enough to be harvested,

brother of carnations and girls,

master of the rope rotted by water and salt

that binds us and takes us on a path to the sea.

* roof-rabbit = cat