Vinicio Capossela — Marcia Del Camposanto song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Marcia Del Camposanto" by Vinicio Capossela.
Lyrics
E lo portaron al Camposanto
gonfio di birra
senza rimpianto
se lo portaron
seduto in trono
quattro becchini
al passo lento del perdono
due passi avanti
tre passi indietro
sotto la luna livida dello spineto
la cinciallegra
rimase affranta
il gallo dorme
e la civetta canta
nelle pannocchie
tra il frumentone
passò il bastone curvo della processione
la cornacchia
gracchia alla macchia
la gazza luccica
sul becco del trombone
e per la lagna
della malogna
che non portasse un’altra volta la scalogna
l’arciprete
non volle messe
e solo un tocco al sacrestano gli concesse
e la buonanima
del Materdomina
soffia nel mantice della fisarmonica
la marescialla
zoppa di guerra
balla la polka
della stampella
nel tabernacolo
del camposanto
la mammanonna lo depose come un guanto
dentro la cassa
porta il tesoro
e sopra gli occhi
due zecchini d’oro
e per la Grazia
del suo Mistero
e per la cantica e la tremola del cero
dalle stelle
sparate in cielo
la luna venne
col suo manto nero
gli tolse gli occhi
gli tolse il pianto
che non portasse l’amarezza dentro il campo
si prese in cambio
l’oro zecchino
e lo brillò nell’oro in bocca del mattino
e per la Grazia
dello zecchino
brillò più forte l’oro in bocca quel mattino
Lyrics translation
And they brought him to the Camp
puffy beer
without regret
they brought it to you.
sitting on the throne
four gravediggers
at the slow pace of forgiveness
two steps forward
three steps back
under the bruised moon of the spinet
titmouse
she was heartbroken
the Rooster sleeps
and the owl sings
in cobs
among the wheat
passed the curved stick of the procession
rook
crocchia alla macchia
the Magpie glitters
on the beak of the trombone
and for whining
of evil
that he should not bring the shallots again
the archpriest
did not want masses
and only a touch to the sacrestan granted him
and good cheer
of Materdomine
blow into the accordion cuff
the Marshal
war limp
dance the polka
of the crutch
in the Tabernacle
of camposanto
the mother-in-law laid him down like a glove
inside the crate
bring the treasure
and above the eyes
two gold ticks
and by Grace
of his mystery
and for the song and the tremola del cero
from the stars
shoot in the sky
the moon came
with his black cloak
he took his eyes off him.
he took away his tears
that he did not bring bitterness into the field
it was taken in return
the Mint Gold
and shone it in gold in the mouth of the morning
and by Grace
of the tick
the gold shone brighter in the mouth that morning