Translation of the song lyrics Marcia del Camposanto - Vinicio Capossela

Marcia del Camposanto (original)

E lo portaron al Camposanto
gonfio di birra
senza rimpianto
se lo portaron
seduto in trono
quattro becchini
al passo lento del perdono
due passi avanti
tre passi indietro
sotto la luna livida dello spineto
la cinciallegra
rimase affranta
il gallo dorme
e la civetta canta
nelle pannocchie
tra il frumentone
passò il bastone curvo della processione
la cornacchia
gracchia alla macchia
la gazza luccica
sul becco del trombone
e per la lagna
della malogna
che non portasse un’altra volta la scalogna
l’arciprete
non volle messe
e solo un tocco al sacrestano gli concesse
e la buonanima
di Materdomina
soffia nel mantice della fisarmonica
la marescialla
zoppa di guerra
balla la polka
della stampella
nel tabernacolo
del camposanto
la mammanonna lo depose come un
guanto
dentro la cassa
porta il tesoro
e sopra gli occhi
due zecchini d’oro
e per la Grazia
del suo Mistero
e per la cantica e la tremola del cero
dalle stelle
sparte in cielo
la luna venne
col suo manto nero
gli tolse gli occhi
gli tolse il pianto
che non portasse l’amarezza dentro il campo
si prese in cambio
l’or zecchino
e lo brillò nell’oro in bocca del mattino
e per la Grazia
dello zecchino
brillò più forte l’oro in bocca a quel mattino

(translation)

And they took him to the Cemetery
swollen with beer
without regret
they took it
seated on the throne
four gravediggers
at the slow pace of forgiveness
two steps forward
three steps back
under the livid moon of the spinetum
the great tit
she was heartbroken
the rooster sleeps
and the owl sings
in the cobs
between the frumentone
the curved staff of the procession passed
the crow
croaks in the bush
the magpie glitters
on the trombone's beak
and for the complaint
of malice
that he didn't bring bad luck again
the archpriest
he did not want masses
and only a touch the sacristan granted him
and the good soul
by Materdomina
blows into the bellows of the accordion
the marshal
war lame
dance polka
of the crutch
in the tabernacle
of the cemetery
the mother-woman laid him down like a
glove
inside the box
bring the treasure
and above the eyes
two gold sequins
and for Grace
of his Mystery
and for the canticle and the tremola of the candle
from the stars
spreads in the sky
the moon came
with his black cloak
she took his eyes away
she took away his tears
that did not bring bitterness into the field
took it in exchange
the pure gold
and she shone it in the gold in the morning's mouth
and for Grace
of the sequin
the gold in the mouth that morning shone brighter