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Texts of the neapolitan songs

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Lacreme napulitane


Museca: Francesco Buongiovanni,

Vierse: Libero Bovio.

Anno: 1925

Neapolitan tears


Music: Francesco Buongiovanni,

Lyrics: Libero Bovio.

Year: 1925

Mia cara madre,
Sta pe' trasì Natale
E a stà luntano cchiù mme sape amaro!
Comme vurria allummà dduje o ttre biancale!
Comme vurria sentì 'nu zampugnaro!
A 'e ninne mieje facitele 'o presepio
E a tavula mettite 'o piatto mio!
Facite, quann'è 'a sera d' 'a Vigilia,
Comme si 'mmiez'a vvuje stesse pur'io!

E nce ne costa lacreme 'st'America
A nuje, napulitane!
Pe' nuje ca ce chiagnimmo 'o cielo 'e Napule,
Comm'è amaro 'stu ppane!

Mia cara madre,
Che sò, che sò 'e denare?
Pe' chi se chiagne 'a Patria, nun sò niente!
Mo tengo quacche dollaro e mme pare
Ca nun sò stato maje tanto pezzente.
Mme sonno tutt' 'e nnotte 'a casa mia
E d' 'e ccriature meje ne sento 'a voce,
Ma a vuje ve sonno comm'a 'na Maria
Cu 'e spade 'mpietto, 'nnanz'ô figlio 'ncroce.

E nce ne costa lacreme 'st'America
A nuje, napulitane!
Pe' nuje ca ce chiagnimmo 'o cielo 'e Napule,
Comm'è amaro 'stu ppane!

Mm'avite scritto
Ch'Assuntulella chiamma
Chi ll'ha lassata e sta luntana ancora.
Che v'aggi' 'a dì? Si 'e figlie vonno 'a mamma,
Facitela turnà chella "signora"!
Io no, nun torno, mme ne resto fore
E resto a faticà pe' tuttuquante.
I', ch'aggio perzo patria, casa e onore,
I' sò carne 'e maciello, sò emigrante!

E nce ne costa lacreme 'st'America
A nuje, napulitane!
Pe' nuje ca ce chiagnimmo 'o cielo 'e Napule,
Comm'è amaro 'stu ppane!

My dear mother,
The Christmas is approaching
And to be so far away is very hurt!
How I would like to light some Bengal lights!
How I would like to hear a bagpiper!
Make the Nativity scene for my children
And put my plate on the table!
Make Christmas Eve
As if I'm also here among you!

How many tears this America costs us,
Neapolitans!
For us, who long for the sky of Naples,
How bitter is this bread!

My dear mother,
What is, what is money?
For a man, who longs for motherland, it's nothing!
Now I have some dollars but it seems to me
That I have never been so poor.
Every night I dream my house
And I hear the voices of my children,
And you dream the Virgin Mary
With swords in breast in front of her crucified son.

How many tears this America costs us,
Neapolitans!
For us, who long for the sky of Naples,
How bitter is this bread!

You have written me
That my daughter Assuntina calls her mom
Who has left her and still stays far away.
What can I say? If my children need their mom
Make this "lady" come back!
I don't come back, I stay here
And I stay for working for you all.
I've lost the motherland, house and honour,
I'm a sacrifice, I'm an emigrant!

How many tears this America costs us,
Neapolitans!
For us, who long for the sky of Naples,
How bitter is this bread!

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translated by Natalia Chernega