[LK11] Sanghe amaro (feat. K-Liz)

Got tired of christmas shit. Let's go back to some story telling. Worked an awful lot on this: on the image of Liz as dirty but real, on the phrasing and, damn, on fucking multilanguage (godamn, I make my life hard by myself). To Neapolitan listeners: sometime my region variation took charge. Indulge me, please. Same for Japanese listeners: not sure it's all correct. GPT change its mind day by day, and I am not sure some of my mental images sounds good in Japanese. Hope it's ok. **** ***** **** TRANSLATED **** ***** **** Bitter Blood* [ITA-NPL] Years ago when I was still just a girl between alleys and neighborhoods* I wanted to feel alive I was sunk in a quiet, numbing sorrow I lived inside a mute heaviness of the soul* my heart tightening whenever they called me a whore Poisoned tongues, liars— it wasn’t even true it was my dead mother who worked the trade But for the fishwives* there was no difference at all for them, with my mother I shared the same knowledge That’s how one day with death sitting in my chest silent, curled up I left for Japan [ENG] Nobody chooses NC, it's a rotten place It's a cradle, a hideout, nobody's first choice It's a trap, a fucking shitty hole, a glittering hell And everybody has his story to tell [JAP] Tokyo is a monster chrome and cement empty eyes are watching I can’t see myself not even my father’s shadow free, alone In a room in Harajuku I sing, I stitch my days together And the song arrives people stop my voice slips into cafés everyone listens I sing in uniform with an unknown friend as the city’s idol just to stay alive The story is predictable from idol to gravure movies and photographs they tried to turn me into a prostitute [ENG] Nobody chooses NC, it's a rotten place It's a cradle, a hideout, nobody's first choice It's a trap, a fucking shitty hole, a glittering hell And everybody has his story to tell Empty men with empty hearts imposed on me a role But the real me ignited so I bloomed in love They just wanted to turn me into meat So I turned them human and I gave them back the heat I wore the sun as a saint of the whores Not for money, no transactions I just wanted to give And other girls followed me in the free copulation Destroying the industry with the loving inflation But pimps and gokudo / missing their cut Made clear their point / beating us up And pimps and gokudo / marked me as well Death was the price / of what I didn't sell That's why I ended up in NC, this rotten place It's a cradle, a fucking hideout, nobody's first choice It's a trap, a sinkhole, but at least here the mox Keep an eye open to cover my back [ITA-NPL] When I see this sea black like asphalt I think of my own sea and if I'd do all of it again But now, when I walk by and they shout “whore” at me I answer: bow your head— of all the whores, I am the sovereign I am the sovereign **** ***** *** 𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑺𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺 (some of these could be useful to not Neapoitan Italians too) 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙤: literally “bitter blood”: a state of inner bitterness, resentment, or emotional sourness caused by frustration or disappointment. It describes a feeling of being inwardly upset or embittered. Like "𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙩'𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙚" (death in heart: a deep state of sadness) could seem a poetical form, but they are common figures of speech indeed. 𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞 𝙧'𝙞 𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙞: translated as "alley and neighbourhoods", very hard to adapt. To Neapolitan people it immediately evokes a picture: narrow alleys, often sloping, balconies so close you could walk between them. It evokes a lot of sounds, too — mostly shouting. 𝙥𝙪𝙘𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙖: untranslatable feeling. term describing a soft, lingering melancholy — a kind of quiet, aimless sadness mixed with lethargy and nostalgia. It isn’t depression, but a gentle emotional heaviness. Like "saudade" (wich has something in common with "pucundria") or "weltschmerz" (wich has not) evokes a dintinct and recognizable state of soul to natural speaker, but very hard to translate. I think these are fucking interesting words: I think these are fucking interesting words: the need for a language to ‘freeze’ such a particular feeling says a lot about the people who speak it. 𝙫𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙯𝙤𝙡𝙖 (s); 𝙫𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙯𝙤𝙡𝙚 (p): a loud, flashy, streetwise girl — often brash, argumentative, and theatrically vulgar. It carries a social stereotype rather than a literal meaning, and has no exact English equivalent. A classic vrenzola’s way of communicating is shouting from balcony to balcony. It refers only to woman. There's no such a thing as a 𝙫𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙯𝙤𝙡𝙤. Neapolitan language is sexist. Deal with it, **** ***** **** ORIGINAL **** ***** **** Qualche anno fa ch'er ancor 'na creatura Fra i vichi r'í rioni mi vuliv sentì viva Rint'a p'ucundrìa stéva n'fussata sana sana C'o core ca se strigneva si mi chiamavano puttana Malelingue! mbruglióne! mica era o' ver! Era a bonanéma ì mamma mia ca' facév'o mestier Ma p'ê vrenzole nun ce stéva nisciuna differenza Ca pe' lloro co' mámmà mi spartév'a cunuscenza È accussì ca nu iorno c'a morte rint'o core Zitta zitta, accuváta me ne iétt'ô Giappone Nobody chooses NC, it's a rotten place It's a cradle, a hideout, nobody's first choice It's a trap, a fucking shitty hole, a glittering hell And everybody has his story to tell 東京は 化け物 クロームと セメント 空っぽな 目が 見る 自分が 見えない 父の 影さえ ない 自由な ひとり 原宿の 部屋で 歌い 紡ぐ 日々 でも 歌が 届き 人々が 止まり 声は 喫茶に 入り みんなが 聞くの 服で 歌う 知らぬ 友だちと 街の アイドルで 生活を つなぐ 物語は 典型 アイドルから グラビアへ 映画と 写真と 私を 娼婦に しようとした Nobody chooses NC, it's a rotten place It's a cradle, a hideout, nobody's first choice It's a trap, a fucking shitty hole, a glittering hell And everybody has his story to tell Empty men with empty hearts imposed on me a role But the real me ignited so I bloomed in love They just wanted to turn me into meat So I turned them human and I gave them back the heat I wore the sun as a saint of the whores Not for money, no transactions I just wanted to give And other girls followed me in the free copulation Destroying the industry with the loving inflation But pimps and gokudo / missing their cut Made clear their point / beating us up And pimps and gokudo / marked me as well Death was the price / of what I didn't sell That's why I ended up in NC, this rotten place It's a cradle, a fucking hideout, nobody's first choice It's a trap, a sinkhole, but at least here the mox Keep an eye open to cover my back Quanno veco chistu mare niro comm’a l’asfalto pienz' o mare mio e se rifarisse tutto quanto ma almeno mo, si pa'a via me alluccano puttana je risponno: vascia a'cap 𝗱’ ’𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵’ ’𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝘃𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵’ ’𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝘃𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗮