Il grido [English translation]

Faces of grimy angels.

I’ve been looking at sky for days and I can’t see the sun,

and my nights are no longer splendid with love,

and my mouth can’t drink any more because it has drunk everything already,

I’m just hungry for a justice that has made me sick by now.

Faces of grimy angels.

Fanatic puppets.

And I’m tired of seeing mothers looking for help.

We are the people who are living the guilts of those who enjoyed themselves.

I can remember the time when I was already saying ‟no”, but now it’s too much:

I don’t want anymore, I won’t try any longer to stifle my cry, no.

And I know that even if I’m saying no, I’m a privileged person,

but don’t you think I have no eyes because I have paid already,

and right now that I’m turning them up to the sky and the sun is not there anymore

I realize how many people cry for a bit of love.

Faces of grimy angels.

You play with alibis.

How would it be to see only smiles and peace among us,

and, in every corner of this world, see happy people?

Newscasts about cheerful children, about games and fairies,

without fears for a dark future that staggers them?

No.

Faces of grimy angels.

Fanatic criminals.

Two millennia of tears.

We, drunk with fibs.

Faces of grimy angels.