Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Carlo Martello (Ritorna Dalla Battaglia Di Poitiers), artist - Fabrizio De André. Album song Gli originali, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 04.07.2013
Record label: Replay
Song language: Italian
Carlo Martello (Ritorna Dalla Battaglia Di Poitiers)(original) |
Re Carlo tornava dalla guerra |
lo accoglie la sua terra cingendolo d’allor. |
Al sol della calda primavera |
lampeggia l’armatura del Sire vincitor. |
Il sangue del Principe e del Moro |
arrossano il cimiero d’identico color |
ma pi che del corpo le ferite |
da Carlo son sentite le bramosie d’amor. |
«Se ansia di gloria, sete d’onore |
spegne la guerra al vincitore |
non ti concede un momento per fare all’amore. |
Chi poi impone alla sposa soave |
di castit la cintura ahim grave |
in battaglia pu correre il rischio di perder la chiave». |
Cos si lamenta il re cristano |
s’inchina intorno il grano, gli son corona i fior. |
Lo specchio di chiara fontanella |
riflette fiero in sella dei Mori il vincitor. |
Quand’ecco nell’acqua si compone |
mirabile visione il simbolo d’amor |
nel folto di lunghe trecce bionde |
il seno si confonde ignudo in pieno sol. |
«mai non fu vista cosa pi bella |
mai io non colsi siffatta pulzella» |
disse re carlo scendendo veloce di sella. |
«Deh, cavaliere non v’accostate |
gi d’altri gaudio quel che cercate |
ad altra pi facile fonte la sete calmate». |
Sorpreso da un fare s deciso |
sentendosi deriso re Carlo s’arrest |
ma pi dell’onor pot il digiuno |
fremente l’elmo bruno il sire si lev. |
Codesta era l’arma sua segreta |
da Carlo spesso usata in gran difficolt |
alla donna apparve un gran nasone |
un volto da caprone, ma era Sua Maest. |
«Se voi non foste il mio sovrano» |
Carlo si sfila il pesante spadone |
«non celerei il disio di fuggirvi lontano. |
Ma poich siete il mio signore» |
Carlo si toglie l’intero gabbione |
«debbo concedermi spoglia ad ogni pudore». |
Cavaliere lui era assai valente |
ed anche in quel frangente d’onor si ricopr |
e giunto alla fin della tenzone |
incerto sull’arcione tent di risalir. |
Veloce lo arpiona la pulzella |
repente una parcella presenta al suo signor |
«deh, proprio perch voi siete il sire |
fan cinquemila lire, un prezzo di favor». |
«E' mai possibile, porco d’un cane, |
che le avventure in codesto reame |
debban risolversi tutte con grandi puttane. |
Anche sul prezzo c' poi da ridire |
ben mi ricordo che pria di partire |
v’eran tariffe inferiori alle tremila lire». |
Ci detto, ag da gran cialtrone |
con balzo da leone in sella si lanci |
frustando il cavallo come un ciuco |
tra i glicini e il sambuco il re si dilegu. |
Re Carlo tornava dalla guerra |
l’accoglie la sua terra cingendolo d’allor. |
Al sol della calda primavera |
lampeggia l’armatura del sire vincitor. |
(translation) |
King Charles was returning from the war |
he welcomes his land to him by encircling it from then. |
In the sun of the warm spring |
the armor of the victorious Sire flashes. |
The blood of the Prince and the Moor |
they redden the crest of the same color |
but more than the body's wounds |
from Carlo the cravings for love are felt. |
"If you are anxious for glory, thirst for honor |
extinguishes the war on the victor |
does not give you a moment to make love. |
Who then imposes on the sweet bride |
the belt of chastity, alas, grave |
in battle he may run the risk of losing the key ». |
Thus complains the Christian king |
the wheat bows around, the flowers are crowned. |
The clear fountain mirror |
proudly reflects the victor in the saddle of the Moors. |
When it is composed in the water |
admirable vision the symbol of love |
in the thick of long blond braids |
the breast is confused naked in full sun. |
"Never was there a more beautiful thing seen |
I never caught such a maid " |
King Charles said, quickly getting out of the saddle. |
"Oh, knight, don't come near |
what you are looking for is already other joy |
to another easier source, quench your thirst ». |
Surprised by a decisive action |
feeling mocked, King Charles stopped |
but more than honor was fasting |
the brown helmet quivering, the sire rose. |
This was his secret weapon |
often used by Carlo in great difficulty |
a big nose appeared to the woman |
the face of a goat, but it was Majesty of him. |
"If you weren't my sovereign" |
Carlo takes off the heavy sword |
«I would not hide the desire to run away from you. |
But since you are my lord " |
Carlo takes off the entire gabion |
"I must allow myself naked to all modesty". |
Knight he was very capable |
and even in that moment of honor he covered himself |
and come to the end of the battle |
uncertain about the saddle he tried to go up. |
The maid harpoons him quickly |
repente a parcel presents to his lord |
«Deh, precisely because you are the sire |
for five thousand lire, a preferential price ». |
"Is it ever possible, pig of a dog, |
than adventures in this realm |
they must all be resolved with great whores. |
Also on the price there is something to say about it |
well I remember that before leaving |
there were rates below three thousand lire ". |
Told us, act like a big scoundrel |
leap like a lion in the saddle |
whipping the horse like a donkey |
between the wisteria and the elder the king disappears. |
King Charles was returning from the war |
he welcomes his land to him by encircling him from then on. |
In the sun of the warm spring |
the armor of the victor sire flashes. |