1
Can you hear me? I’m the voice of people who have nothing.
While cargo ships are setting sail,2
we have only the wind left, the wind.
Can you hear me? I’m the voice of people who have nothing.
While cargo ships are setting sail,
we have only the wind left, the wind.
I swear, mum:
this is the last coffee I’m drinking.3
The lack of rest makes me nervous, and I’m wondering
whether I’ll be left with only dust in my hands
and the result will be me dashing onto those ships.
The sons of a bitch screw up my plans:
they want to treat us like poor slaves;4
and people who dream of the farthest America,
like the blood of our ancestors, a century ago,
forsaken by God,
hell is burning here;
and people who are restless because they are tired on their inside,
and by walking tall,
by listening to the voice of the wind,
they will hit the mark.
Can you hear me? I’m the voice of people who have nothing.
While cargo ships are setting sail,
we have only the wind left, the wind.
Can you hear me? I’m the voice of people who have nothing.
While cargo ships are setting sail,
we have only the wind left, the wind.
I’m speaking in the name of a generation
who have nothing left here anymore,
and who are forced to be always depending on people;
going away, to the North, though with a Southern mindset;5
we artists are left with only wind.
In ever-greater numbers, with a suitcase in our hand,
we wander across a nation
that doesn’t give a chance to what we invent, nor deems it worthwhile.
I can’t stand it anymore.
‟Thirty years among this shit,
but I’m rolling up my sleeves, bro, and we’ll start over.”
If you think that you’ll be thinking like that as an adult,
then, kid, you don’t understand shit;
I was waiting for you.
And for the coming end of the world,
as an old wise man said:
let’s hope I’ll make it through.6
Look at people when they feel the wind on their skin,
the smell, the things for their souls.
And what they find, they call it ‟truth”;
sensitivity in the air, strength inside.7
I’d like to understand how much time I have now
to confess my sins,
and I committed so many of them, Lord!
What they find, they call it ‟truth”;
sensitivity in the air, wind in the soul.8
Can you hear me? I’m the voice of people who have nothing.
While cargo ships are setting sail,
we have only the wind left, the wind.
Can you hear me? I’m the voice of people who have nothing.
While cargo ships are setting sail,
we have only the wind left, the wind.
I swear, mum:
this is the last coffee I’m drinking:
like Troisi, it makes me nervous.9
And then I wonder when these stories are going to end,
always the same ones,
time passes by in front of me: FS.10
I’m casting the last stone,11
among sinners, we understand each other.
And you, welcome to the South,12
now we’re going to explain it to you.13
I’m bearing a cross like Jesus Christ on the Calvary:
it’s the cross of being Italian.14
And do you know my name? Good.
People who admire me for what I am,
because sometimes what I play is priceless.
My ideas will keep travelling
with the voice of the wind
of people who have nothing and know how to sing.
Can you hear me? I’m the voice of people who have nothing.
While cargo ships are setting sail,
we have only the wind left, the wind.
Can you hear me? I’m the voice of people who have nothing.
While cargo ships are setting sail,
we have only the wind left, the wind.
Can you hear me?
Can you hear me? I’m the voice of people who have nothing.
While cargo ships are setting sail,
we have only the wind left, the wind.
1. This song is about today’s emigration in Italy; it is a delicate issue for Naples, whose people are torn between a deep love for their city and the need to go somewhere else (to northern Italy, or abroad) to find a job.2. Emigration is not a novelty for Italy (although many people have forgotten): in the past, especially during the early 1900s, it meant boarding cargo ships leaving for America.3. In Naples, coffee is almost a sacred matter; the man of the song will never again taste a coffee as good as that of his city: he is determined to emigrate now.4. People are victim to exploiters, incapable politicians, etc. Because of this, life conditions are harsh, there are no jobs, and people are forced to emigrate (they are left with nothing in their hands, and their only hope is to leave aboard ships, towards America).5. There is a large gap between northern and southern Italy, regarding mindset and wealth, which can also result in conflicts and racism.
At least in the cliché, southern people are less hard-working, poorer, less educated, more exuberant, more passionate, more generous.6. Reference to the book Io speriamo che me la cavo, which is a collection of primary school compositions by Neapolitan children, who in their lives have to face difficult problems like those of camorra, of social degradation, and of poverty.
The title is taken from one of the essays, and it is an ungrammatical way (influenced by Neapolitan) to say ‟Speriamo che io me la cavi” {let’s hope I will make it through}.
Note that saggio {wise; wise man} may also mean ‟essay”.7. Or ‟Sensitivity for the air”.8. Or ‟Sensitivity for the air, wind for the soul”.9. No grazie, il caffè mi rende nervoso {No thanks, coffee makes me nervous} is a 1982 movie featuring Neapolitan actor Massimo Troisi.10. FS (Ferrovie dello Stato {State Railways}) is the Italian state railroad company.
Time passes fast, just like a train passing by.11. Reference to the Bible’s lines (John 8,7) in which Jesus says: «Whoever is without sin among you, let him be the first to cast a stone at her», which is often quoted in Italian as ‟Chi è senza peccato, scagli la prima pietra” {he who is without sin, let him cast the first stone}.
As for coffee, this ‟last” action reveals the determination of going away to start a new life.12. Reference to the movie Benvenuti al Sud {Welcome to the South}, which is a comedy about the differences and commonalities of the North and South of Italy.13. (southern Italian dialects) mò = now.14. Jesus was forced to drag his own cross up to the Calvary hill, where he was crucified.
The calvario {Calvary; ordeal} of today’s young people is that of being Italian; that is, of being born in a country that does nothing for them.