Sunday, April 6, 2014

Non al denaro non all'amore nè al cielo:
   Un blasfemo (dietro ogni blasfemo c’è un giardino incantato) -
   A Blasphemer (behind every blasphemer there’s an enchanted garden)

Mai più mi chinai e nemmeno su un fiore,
più non arrossii nel rubare l'amore
dal momento che Inverno mi convinse che Dio
non sarebbe arrossito rubandomi il mio.

Mi arrestarono un giorno per le donne ed il vino,
non avevano leggi per punire un blasfemo,
non mi uccise la morte, ma due guardie bigotte,
mi cercarono l'anima a forza di botte.

Perché dissi che Dio imbrogliò il primo uomo,
lo costrinse a viaggiare una vita da scemo,
nel giardino incantato lo costrinse a sognare,
a ignorare che al mondo c'e' il bene e c'è il male.

Quando vide che l'uomo allungava le dita
a rubargli il mistero di una mela proibita
per paura che ormai non avesse padroni
lo fermò con la morte, inventò le stagioni.

... mi cercarono l'anima a forza di botte...

E se furon due guardie a fermarmi la vita,
è proprio qui sulla terra la mela proibita,
e non Dio, ma qualcuno che per noi l'ha inventato,
ci costringe a sognare in un giardino incantato,
ci costringe a sognare in un giardino incantato
ci costringe a sognare in un giardino incantato.

Un blasfemo © 1971 Fabrizio De André/Giuseppe Bentivoglio/
Nicola Piovani


"Un blasfemo" is based on "Wendell P. Bloyd."



I never again bent down, not even over a flower.
I blushed no more in stealing love,
from the moment Winter convinced me that God
would not be blushed stealing mine from me.

They arrested me one day for the women and the wine.
They didn’t have laws to punish a blasphemer.
Death didn’t kill me, but two holier-than-thou guards
searched my soul with the force of blows.

Because I said that God deceived the first man.
He forced him to travel life as a fool.
In the enchanted garden He forced him to dream,
to ignore that there's both good and evil in the world.

When He saw that the man stretched his fingers
to steal the mystery of a prohibited apple,
fearing that by then he had no masters
He stopped him with death, He invented the seasons.

. . . They searched my soul with the force of blows. . .

And if there were two guards to stop my life,
it is only here on earth the prohibited apple.
And not God, but someone who invented it for us.
forces us to dream in an enchanted garden,
forces us to dream in an enchanted garden,
forces us to dream in an enchanted garden.

English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser


Non al denaro non all'amore nè al cielo, released in 1971, is a concept album inspired by poems from The Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters, published in 1915 and translated into Italian in 1943 by Fernanda Pivano. Each poem tells the story, as an epitaph, of one of the denizens of the fictional small town Spoon River. De André read and liked the book when he was 18, and when he re-read it years later was again struck by the relevance of the stories and the lives therein. He wanted to show, with the nine poems he chose, some aspects of life related to envy, love and the failure of science. The album was an immediate success upon its release.
Wendell P. Bloyd – Edgar Lee Masters

They first charged me with disorderly conduct,
There being no statute on blasphemy.
Later they locked me up as insane
Where I was beaten to death by a Catholic guard.
My offense was this:
I said God lied to Adam, and destined him
to lead the life of a fool,
Ignorant that there is evil in the world as well as good.
And when Adam outwitted God by eating the apple
And saw through the lie,
God drove him out of Eden to keep him from taking
The fruit of immortal life.
For Christ's sake, you sensible people,
Here's what God Himself says about it in the book of Genesis:
"And the Lord God said, behold the man
Is become as one of us" (a little envy, you see),
"To know good and evil" (The all-is-good lie exposed):
"And now lest he put forth his hand and take
Also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever:
Therefore the Lord God sent Him forth from the Garden of Eden."
(The reason I believe God crucified His Own Son
To get out of the wretched tangle is, because it
sounds just like Him).


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