Translation of the song lyrics Il funambolo - Enrico Ruggeri

Il funambolo (original)

Questo tempo libera la poesia.
Passa un’ora e non pi№ la mia
ma rimane l¬, immobile
quella corda tesa tra la realt
e la pi№ strana fantasia
come i minuti e le perplessit
tra le stesse quotidianit
ma sarІ l¬, libero
pi№ vicino al cielo volerІ
non precipiterІ tra l’azzurro e la citt
la citt vola via
vola sopra a quell’idea
di equilibrio e simmetria
dove il tempo svanir
c' il funambolo che sa
passa il tempo e il tempo dimmi che cos'
se il presente tiene dentro s
ogni passato prossimo
come se non fossimo gi qui
ancora immobili, cos¬
con quei ricordi indistruttibili
quei sentimenti indivisibili
saremo l¬,
fragili e nasconderemo le armonie
di certe poesie
tra l’azzurro e le citt
la citt vola via
vola sopra a quell’idea
di equilibrio e simmetria
dove il tempo svanir
c' il funambolo che sa
questo tempo immobile che limita
sbriciola il futuro che verr
ma abbiamo gi un’anima
che conduce verso l’allegria
o la malinconia
come se spingessimo altalene
in preda alla follia
tra l’azzurro e un’idea quell’idea vola via vola sulle citt
tra equilibrio e simmetria
quando il tempo fuggir
il funambolo sapr
il funambolo sapr.
(Grazie a emilio per questo testo)

Il funambolo (translation)

This time frees poetry.
An hour goes by and not mine anymore
but it remains there, motionless
that tightrope between reality
and the strangest fantasy
like the minutes and the perplexities
between the same everyday
but it will be there, free
as close to heaven as I want
I will not fall between the blue and the city
the city flies away
flies above that idea
of balance and symmetry
where time will fade
there is the tightrope walker who knows
time passes and time tell me what
if the present holds within s
every perfect past tense
as if we weren't already here
still motionless, like this
with those indestructible memories
those indivisible feelings
we will be there,
fragile and we will hide the harmonies
of certain poems
between the blue and the cities
the city flies away
flies above that idea
of balance and symmetry
where time will fade
there is the tightrope walker who knows
this still time that limits
crumbles the future that will come
but we already have a soul
that leads to happiness
or melancholy
as if we were pushing swings
in the grip of madness
between blue and an idea that idea flies away flies over the cities
between balance and symmetry
when time will flee
the tightrope walker will know
the tightrope walker will know.
(Thanks to emilio for this text)