Oh violacce hills So the creplakistan
'serene, peaceful, away from the chaos
With those yellowish patches that put
embarrassing to not know you
Violet and stained hills of creplakistan
Upon you grew generations of
clear and honest people, people who still use
scappellarsi
the passage of a lady, they say
sip instead of sucking
pain and suffering instead of the banal.
Oh ...
polite and cautious creplakistani,
by the river I met you, that your
river that runs free in the spring and impetuous
filled with water that seems
condensed milk, and sometimes takes on a sinister blood-red.
There 's rotten in creplakistan ...
and e 'the national cake ...
Oh ... If he returns
'still laughing and grilling
on your purple meadows
but be' more 'careful
where to sit' the next time to avoid staining
and still look 'from my beloved ,
battered creplakistan
crowned by the sunset flight of flocks of birds
long-beaked
flying fast
to the wet line of the horizon of the hills
creplakistane.
written by Martin
vergnano (c) & (p) 2006
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