Lyrics of Vamp - Paolo Conte

Vamp (original)

Tu col tuo bel sorriso amaro
in primo piano, ma cos'??
ti carica come un somaro
di oro e smeraldi, un narghil?
non era America, chiss?
non era Africa, chiss?
la vecchia via del variet?
Tu col tuo passo incomparabile
andavi lenta e incomprensibile
come il voto del dirigibile
sopra la folla impressionabile?
non era America, chiss?
non era Africa, chiss?
la vecchia via del variet?
Io non capivo niente
guardavo la gente
e la faccia che ha e mi aspettavo di tutto
di bello e di brutto
col caldo che fa?
C’era di tutto in quel sorriso
ma in quella stanza quasi niente,
l’aria di un vecchio paradiso
in un silenzio travolgante?
non era America, chiss?
non era Africa, chiss?
la vecchia via del variet?
E i giorni andati sono andati
nel gusto bruto del tamburo
nel fascino di certe stelle
sparate contro il cielo scuro
non era America, chiss?
non era Africa, chiss?
la vecchia via del variet?
Io non capivo un tubo
guardavo il lavabo
e la faccia che fa,
e intanto mi consolavo,
bevevo e fumavo
da un’eternit?
Ma era pur sempre il mio mestiere,
accompagnatore di una star
oasi di carovaniere
?
come avere e non avere?
non era America, chiss?
non era Africa, chiss?
la vecchia via del variet?

(translation)

You with your beautiful bitter smile
in the foreground, but what?
he charges you like a donkey
of gold and emeralds, a hookah?
it wasn't America, who knows?
it wasn't Africa, who knows?
the old way of the variety?
You with your incomparable step
you went slow and incomprehensible
like the airship's vote
above the emotional crowd?
it wasn't America, who knows?
it wasn't Africa, who knows?
the old way of the variety?
I didn't understand anything
I looked at people
and the face he has and I expected everything
good and bad
what's the heat like?
There was everything in that smile
but in that room almost nothing,
the air of an old paradise
in an overwhelming silence?
it wasn't America, who knows?
it wasn't Africa, who knows?
the old way of the variety?
And the days gone are gone
in the brutal taste of the drum
in the charm of certain stars
shoot against the dark sky
it wasn't America, who knows?
it wasn't Africa, who knows?
the old way of the variety?
I didn't understand a tube
I looked at the sink
and the face he makes,
and in the meantime I consoled myself,
drank and smoked
for an eternity?
But it was still my job,
companion of a star
caravan oasis
?
how to have and not to have?
it wasn't America, who knows?
it wasn't Africa, who knows?
the old way of the variety?