Translation of the song Pulènta e galèna frègia artist Davide Van de Sfroos
Pulènta e galèna frègia
Polenta and Cold Hen
Pulenta e galena frègia,
1
e un fantasma in sö la veranda.
Polenta and cold hen,
Barbera cumé petròli,
and a ghost on the porch.
e anca la löna me pâr che sbanda.
Barbera2 like petrol,
Cadrega che fa frecàss,
and it seems the moon is staggering too.
e buca vèrta che dîs nagót;
A creaking chair,
dumà la radio sgrafigna l’aria,
and an open mouth saying nothing;
e i pensée fan un gran casòt.
only the radio scratches the air,
L’è menga vèra che nel silenzio
It’s not true that, in the silence,
dòrma dumà la malincunìa;
only melancholy sleeps;
l’è menga vèra che ’n tuscanèl
it’s not true that a Toscanello3
l’è menga bòn de fa una puesìa.
is not good to make a poem.4
In questa stanza senza urelògg,
In this room without a clock,
bala la fata, bala la stria;
the fairy dances, the witch dances;
in questu sît senza la lüüs,
in this place without light,
che dîs tücòos l’è dumà l’umbrìa.
it’s only shadow that says everything.
Sculta ’l véent che ’l pica a la pòrta,
Listen to the wind knocking at the door,
in crapa una nìgula e in brasc una spórta,
a cloud on its head and a bag in its arms,
el dîs che ’l g’ha déent un bèl regâl,
it says that it has a nice gift in there,
me sa che l’è ’l sòlito tempurâl.
I guess it’s the usual storm.
Sculta i spiriti, sculta i fulèt,
Listen to the spirits, listen to the pixies,
rampéghen in söl müür e i sólten fö del cassèt,
they climb up the wall and jump out of the drawer,
g’han sö i vestî de quand seri penén,
they wear the clothes from when I was a kid,
i ne van, i ne vègnen cunt el büceer del ven.
they come and go with the glass of wine.
E la candela la sta mai fèrma,
And the candle never keeps still,
la se möv cume la memòria.
it moves like memory.
E anca el ragn sö la balaüstra
And the spider on the balustrade
ricama ’l quadru de la sua stòria;
embroiders the tapestry of its story too;
la ragnatela di mè pensée
the web of my thoughts
la ciàpa tüt quèl che rüva scià,
catches everything that comes to here,
ma tanti vóolt la g’ha tròpi böcc
but it often has too many holes
e l’è tüta de rammendà.
and it’s all to be mended.
La finestra la sbat i al,
The window flaps its wings,
ma la sà che pò méa ’nà via.
but it knows it can’t go away.
E i stèl g’han la facia lüstra
And the stars have a glistening face,
cume i öcc de la nustalgìa.
like the eyes of nostalgia.
In quèsta stanza sènza nissön,
In this room where there is nobody,
vardi luntàn e se vedi in facia;
I look far away and I can see my face;
in quèsta stanza de ’n òltro tèmpu,
in this room from another time,
i mè fantasmi i làssen la traccia.
my ghosts leave their trace.
Sculta ’l véent che ’l pica a la pòrta,
Listen to the wind knocking at the door,
in crapa una nìgula e in brasc una spórta,
a cloud on its head and a bag in its arms,
el dîs che ’l g’ha déent un bèl regâl,
it says that it has a nice gift in there,
me sa che l’è ’l sòlito tempurâl.
I guess it’s the usual storm.
Sculta i spiriti, sculta i fulèt,
Listen to the spirits, listen to the pixies,
rampéghen in söl müür e i sólten fö del cassèt,
they climb up the wall and jump out of the drawer,
g’han sö i vestî de quand seri penén,
they wear the clothes from when I was a kid,
i ne van, i ne vègnen cunt el büceer del ven.
they come and go with the glass of wine.