The house on the edge of night's [darkness],
Stays obscure and silent.
You breathe a clear and light air
And you hear voices – maybe – from another epoch,
And you hear voices – maybe – from another epoch…
The house on the edge of memories,
Always the same – as you can recall it,
And you [must] search there your roots
If you want to understand your [inner] soul,
If you want to understand your [inner] soul…
How many days and how many lives slipped away from you,
Like the reaver streaming by you.
You [house], you have seen my ancestors1 born and die,
Slowly, day by day,
And I, the last one, I ask you if you recognize in me
A sign, a trace of every life2…
Or if only I'm [trying to] search in you
The answers to everything I haven't understood yet,
The answers to everything I haven't understood yet…
But it's useless to try to search for [the house's] words,
The old store doesn't make a sound:
Or [maybe] it talks like the world and like the sun,
[Using] words that are too great [to be understood by] a man,
[Using] words that are too great [to be understood by] a man.
And you feel them inside – such bounds,
The ancient rites and the myths from the past
And you feel them inside like hands,
But you do grasp their meaning no more,
But you do grasp their meaning no more…
But, is there [really] a meaning in what borned between your walls?
Everything is dead and no-one ever known
Or, [even] better, it makes no sense to wonder why,
The more I ask and the less I know.
And me, the last one, I ask you if it will be the same
For another [man] coming after [me] – wanting to know –,
And if this other one will find here
The usual endless silence,
The usual endless silence.
The house it’s like a fullstop of memories,
Your roots give you wisdom:
And maybe this is the answer [I was looking for],
And you feel a sense of sweetness,
And you feel a sense of sweetness…
1. Emilia's old patriarchal rural families used to live in the same house for generations2. Of life that lived in the very same house. So, if he's like some of his ancestors.