La guerra di Piero- Fabrizio De Andrè
LINK TO THE SONG: IT'S IN ITALIAN
You sleep buried in a wheat field
It's not a rose, it's not a tulip.
that watch over you from the trenches' shadow,
they are a thousand of red poppies
Along the benches of my creek
I wanna see come down silver pikes
not the cadavers of the soldiers
drifted along by the current
So you said, and it was winter
and like the others, heading for hell
You went glum as who must
the wind spitting snow on your face
Stop Piero, stop right now
let some time pass over you
you bear the voices of the slain
who gave life to get a cross in return
But you didn't heard that and time passed,
and so did seasons at java pace
and you'd come to cross the border
in a nice spring day
And while you were marching with your soul on your shoulders
you saw a man across the valley
that had exactly your same mood
but a uniform of a different color
Fire at him Piero, fire at him now
and after a shot, fire at him again
until you'll see him wan
fall on the ground to cover his blood
If I hit him in the head or the heart
he will have only the time to die
but I will have still time to see
to see the eyes of a dying man
But while you were giving him this consideration
He turned around, saw you, got startled
and once grabbed the artillery
he didn't reciprocate the courtesy
You fell on the ground without a lament
and realized in a single moment
that you would not have enough time
to ask dispensation for all your sins
You fell on the ground without a lament
and realized in a single moment
that your life was ending that day
and you would never come back
My fair Ninetta, to snuff it in March
one needs a lot, too much courage
My dear Ninetta, straight to hell
I would have preferred to go in winter
While the wheat was hearing you,
in your hands you were holding your rifle,
in your mouth you were holding words
too cold to melt in the sun
You sleep buried in a wheat field
It's not a rose, it's not a tulip.
that watch over you from the trenches' shadow,
they are a thousand of red poppies