Volume III: Il testamento - The Will

Quando la morte mi chiamerà forse qualcuno protesterà dopo aver letto nel testamento quel che gli lascio in eredità non maleditemi non serve a niente tanto all'inferno ci sarò già ai protettori delle battone lascio un impiego da ragioniere perché provetti nel loro mestiere rendano edotta la popolazione ad ogni fine di settimana sopra la rendita di una puttana ad ogni fine di settimana sopra la rendita di una puttana voglio lasciare a Bianca Maria che se ne frega della decenza un attestato di benemerenza che al matrimonio le spiani la via con tanti auguri per chi c'è caduto di conservarsi felice e cornuto con tanti auguri per chi c'è caduto di conservarsi felice e cornuto sorella morte lasciami il tempo di terminare il mio testamento lasciami il tempo di salutare di riverire di ringraziare tutti gli artefici del girotondo intorno al letto di un moribondo signor becchino mi ascolti un poco il suo lavoro a tutti non piace non lo consideran tanto un bel gioco coprir di terra chi riposa in pace ed è per questo che io mi onoro nel consegnarle la vanga d'oro ed è per questo che io mi onoro nel consegnarle la vanga d'oro per quella candida vecchia contessa che non si muove più dal mio letto per estirparmi l'insana promessa di riservarle i miei numeri al lotto non vedo l'ora di andar fra i dannati per rivelarglieli tutti sbagliati non vedo l'ora di andar fra i dannati per riferirglieli tutti sbagliati quando la morte mi chiederà di restituirle la libertà forse una lacrima forse una sola sulla mia tomba si spenderà forse un sorriso forse uno solo dal mio ricordo germoglierà se dalla carne mia già corrosa dove il mio cuore ha battuto il tempo dovesse nascere un giorno una rosa la do alla donna che mi offrì il suo pianto per ogni palpito del suo cuore le rendo un petalo rosso d'amore per ogni palpito del suo cuore le rendo un petalo rosso d'amore a te che fosti la più contesa la cortigiana che non si dà a tutti ed ora all'angolo di quella chiesa offri le immagini ai belli ed ai brutti lascio le note di questa canzone canto il dolore della tua illusione a te che sei per tirare avanti costretta a vendere Cristo e i santi quando la morte mi chiamerà nessuno al mondo si accorgerà che un uomo è morto senza parlare senza sapere la verità che un uomo è morto senza pregare fuggendo il peso della pietà cari fratelli dell'altra sponda cantammo in coro giù sulla terra amammo in cento l'identica donna partimmo in mille per la stessa guerra questo ricordo non vi consoli quando si muore si muore soli questo ricordo non vi consoli quando si muore si muore soli. Il testamento © 1963 Fabrizio De André "Il testamento" was the A-side of the fourth 45 released by Karim, in 1963. De André was no doubt familiar with similar type songs by the French singer/songwriters Georges Brassens ("Le testament," 1955) and Jacques Brel ("Le moribond," 1961), as well as with the 15th century French poet François Villon, whose poem "Le testament: Ballade des dames du temps jadis" was the inspiration for Brassens's song. While these works may have given De André the idea for the setup of the song - the last will of a dying man - the lyrics themselves are classic De André, filled with humor, making fun of the well-to-do and siding with the have-nots. (Translation note: "rendita" means income earned on capital, like interest from a savings account or bond, and the most accurate translation is "unearned income." That translation however might suggest that prostitutes don't have to work for a living. De André's intent here was more to put the (good) money that could be made by a prostitute on the same plain as the (easy) money made by the moneyed class on their capital, or to posit a social outsider like a prostitute being able to earn and save enough so as to be able to receive "unearned income," probably to the chagrin of mainstream owners of capital.)

When Death calls for me, maybe someone will protest after having read in the will what inheritance I am leaving them. Don’t curse me, it won’t do any good, I’ll be so far into hell already. To the pimps of the hookers I leave an accountant's task so that experts in their line of work keep the populace informed at the end of every week about the capital gains of a whore, at the end of every week about the capital gains of a whore. I wish to leave White Mary, who doesn’t give a damn about decency, a certificate of merit that might pave the way to marriage, with all good wishes to whoever fell for it to keep themselves happy and betrayed, with all good wishes to whoever fell for it to keep themselves happy and betrayed. Sister Death, leave me the time to finalize my will, leave me the time to say goodbye, to pay my respects, to give thanks to all the great masters of ring-around-the-rosie ‘round the bed of a dying man. Mister gravedigger, listen to me a little. Everyone dislikes your work, they don’t consider it such a great joke to cover with earth whoever rests in peace. And for this reason I am proud to award you the golden spade, and for this reason I am proud to award you the golden spade. For that lily-white old countess who moves no more from my bed, so as to extract from me the insane promise of reserving for her my lottery numbers, I can’t wait to go among the damned to reveal all the wrong ones to her, I can’t wait to go among the damned to reveal all the wrong ones to her. When Death asks me to give it back my freedom, perhaps a tear, maybe just one, on my tomb will be spent, perhaps a smile, maybe just one, from my remembrance will sprout. If from my meat already eaten away, where my heart beat out the time, should one day be born a rose, I give it to the woman who offered me her tears. For every beat of her heart I’ll render to her a red petal of love. For every beat of her heart I’ll render to her a red petal of love. To you who were the most sought-after, the courtesan who didn’t give it up to just anyone, you who now, at the corner of that church, offer likenesses to the beautiful and ugly alike, I leave the notes of this song. I sing the sadness of your illusion to you who, to scrape by, are compelled to sell Christ and the saints. When Death calls me, no one in the world will realize that a man died without speaking, without knowing the truth, that a man died without praying, fleeing the burden of piety. Dear brothers of the other shore, we sang in chorus down there on earth, we loved in hundreds the same woman, we departed in thousands for the same war. This memory might not console you all - when people die, they die alone. This memory might not console you all - when people die, they die alone. English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser Volume III, released in 1968 just three months after the release of Tutti morimmo a stento, included four new songs along with re-recorded versions of other songs released previously as singles. The new songs weren't originals, however: two translations of Georges Brassens songs, a 13th century Italian sonnet set to music, and a traditional 14th century French song. The lack of originals and the timing of the release points to the fact that De André's label wanted to release something on the heels of the huge success of the Mina cover of "Marinella" that was released at the end of 1967. Volume III had strong sales for two years following its release.

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