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Sidùn as Gaza

Sunday, January 11 falls on the tenth anniversary of the death of Fabrizio De Andrè.

Everything has been said about him.

on his life, his music, its meanings.

To commemorate Faber, his art and to emphasize one of his greatest teachings, the wickedness of war, so relevant these days, while Israel is carrying out a genocide against the Palestinians in Gaza, I can not help but use one of his the most poignant and beautiful songs, Sidùn.

I hope you and excited to hear that it can always inspire your gestures, your consciousness and your commitment.

"Sidon is the Lebanese city that has given us over the use of the letters of the invention of the glass. I have the image, after the attack suffered by the troops of General Sharon in 1982, as a middle-aged Arab man, dirty, desperate, surely poor, holding up his son from the ground tracks of a tank. (...) The little death that hint at the end of this song, not simplistically be confused with the death of a young child. But must be understood metaphorically as the end of civilization and culture of a small country: Lebanon, Phoenicia, who in his discretion has been perhaps the greatest nurse of the Mediterranean civilization. "(Fabrizio de Andrè )

And here is the Genoa and Italian text:

U mae nininu mæu mælerfe fat au sud'amë of America
My baby fat to the mioil miolabbra soled honey honey

leader Tumu benignude muaèspremmûu teu 'nta maccaia de de stae stae
sweet benign tumor of your mother squeezed nell'afa humid summer summer

and oua de grûmmu blood ouëgee teeth of the laetee euggi of surdatti chen arraggëcu'a scciûmma aa cacciuéi Bucca de bae
and now blood clot milk teeth and ears and eyes of the soldiers mad dogs foaming at the mouth of lambs hunters

Scurr to people to cumm game possible so-'u nu blood sarvaegu gh'à smurtau to Quee doppu u feru gauge in the wound of prixúne ä' nt vacations to Semensi velenusa ä depurtaziún
of chasing people like wild game until the blood has not extinguished the desire and after the iron throat of the knife wounds prigionee the poisonous seeds of the deportation

because of a de Nostru cianûa au meünu peua ciu grows aerbu spica ni mae ni figgeüciao 'nin the ereditæl'è ASCUS
because of our plain from the pier can no longer grow or tree ear or hello baby my son's legacy is hidden

'nte is çittæch'a brux unto brûxainta seia that chin-ae in large study ciaeu de teu feugupe to death-a piccin
in this city, burning down burning in the evening and light a fire in this great for your little death.