Per una libera Irlanda

[BELLOVESO]

Originally posted by Shardana Ruju
Inno Nazionale EIRE

Amhán Na bhFiann

Sinne Fianna Fáil,
Atá Fá gheall ag Éirinn,
Buidhean dár sluagh tar rúinn do ráinig chughainn:
Fámhoídh bheírh saor,
Sean-tír ár sinnsear feasta
Ní fágfar fá'n tíorán ná fa'n tráil;
Anocht a theigeamh sa bhearna baoghail,
Le gean ar Gaedhí chun báis nó saoghail,
Le gunna sgréach: Fá lamhach na piléar.
Seo Libh canaidh amhrán na bhFiann.

Seo dhibh a cháirde duan oglaidh
Caithréimeach, bríoghmhar, ceolmhar.
Ár dteinte cnámh go buacach táid,
`S an spéir go min réaltógach.
Is fionmhar faobhrach sinn chun gleo
'S go tiúnmhar glé roimh tigheacht do'n ló,
Fa ciúnas chaoimh na h-oidhche ar seol,
Seo libh, canaídh amhrán na bhFiann.

Cois banta réidhe, ar árdaibh sléibhe.
Ba bhuadhach ár rinnsear romhainn,
Ag lámhach go tréan fá'n sár- bhrat séin
Tá thuas sa ghaoith go seolta;
Ba dhúthchas riamh d'ár gcine cháidh
Gan iompáil riar ó imirt áir,
'Siubhal mar iad i gcoinnibh rámhaid
Seo libh, canaidh amhrán na bhFiann.

A buidhean nach fann d'fuil Ghaoidheal is Gall
Sinn breacadh lae na saoirse,
Tá sgéimhle 's sgannradh í gcroidhthibh namhad,
Roimh ranngaibh laochra ár dtíre;
Ár dteinte is tréith gan spréach anois,
Sin luinne ghlé san spéir anoir,
'S an bíodhbha i raon na bpiléar agaibh:
Seo libh, canaidh amhrán na bhFiann.

A Soldier's Song
Soldiers are we,
whose lives are pledged to Ireland
Some have come from a land beyond the wave,
Some to be free,
no more our ancient sireland
Shall shelter the despor or the slave;
tonight we man the Bearna Baoghal
In Erin's cause.
come woe or weal;
'Mid cannon's roar and rifle's peal
We'll chant a soldier's song.

We'll sing a song, a soldier's song
With cheering, rousing chorus
As round our blazing fires we thong,
The starry heavens o'er us;
Impatient for the coming fight,
And as we wait the mornings light
here in the silence of the night
We'll sing a soldier's song

CHORUS
In valley green or towering crag
Our fathers fought before us,
And conquered 'neath the same old flag
That's floating o'er us,
We're children of a fighting race
That never yet has known disgrace,
And as we march the foe to face,
We'll sing a soldier's song

CHORUS
Sons of the Gael! Men of the Pale!
The Long watched day is breaking;
The serried ranks of Innisfail
Shall set the tyrant quaking.
Our camp fires now are burning low;
See in the east a silvery glow,
Out yonder waits the saxon foe,
So sing a soldier's song.

--------------------------------------------


Nìl Sè Nà Là Bobby, Nil Sè Nà Là.

Ti ringrazio per il contributo.

A proposito, una volta mi pare di aver letto su un forum e poi ascoltato da qualche altra parte l'inno sardo.. Su Patriotu Sardu mi sembra.

saluti padanisti

[Perdu]

Originally posted by BELLOVESO











Ti ringrazio per il contributo.

A proposito, una volta mi pare di aver letto su un forum e poi ascoltato da qualche altra parte l'inno sardo.. Su Patriotu Sardu mi sembra.

saluti padanisti

se ti interessa posso postare il nostro inno nazionale (su Patriotu Sardu a sos feudatàrios), però ho solo la versione sarda e inglese

[Shardana Ruju]

.

[Shardana Ruju]

"Procurad' 'e moderare,
barones sa tirannia,
chi si no, pro vida mia,
torrades a pè in terra!
declarada è già sa gherra
contra de sa prepotenzia,
e cominzia' sa passienzia
in su pobulu a faltare."

"Cercate di moderare,
baroni, la tirannide,
altrimenti, per la mia vita!,
tornate a piedi a terra!
dichiarata è già la guerra
contro la propotenza,
e comincia la pazienza
nel popolo a mancare."

*
"Custa , pobulus è s'ora
d'estirpare sos abusos!
a terra sos malos usos,
a terra su dispotismu!
Gherra, gherra a s'egoismu!
e gherra a sos oppressores,
custos tirannos minores
est preziosu umiliare."


"Questa, Popoli è l'ora,
di estirpare gli abusi!
a terra i cattivi usi,
a terra il dispotismo!
guerra, guerra all'egoismo!
e guerra agli oppressori,
questi tiranni di poco valore
bisogna umiliarli."


(di Francesco Ignazio Mannu, scritto nel 1796)

[Shardana Ruju]

Dunuqe, caro Celtic.... tu dici....(cito testualmente)

"OGNI POPOLO LA SUA TERRA
OGNI POPOLO LA SUA STORIA"

Ogni Popolo, vuol dire letteralmente "tutti i popoli".
Quale è la tua/vostra posizione allora nel merito della liberazione nazionale della Sardigna?
O dei Paesi Baschi...o della Galizia....o della Bretagna...o della Catalogna...Corsica...ecc.ecc.ecc.ecc.....

Sotzialismu e Indipendentzia
JO TA KE LORU ARTE

[BELLOVESO]

Originally posted by Perdu


se ti interessa posso postare il nostro inno nazionale (su Patriotu Sardu a sos feudatàrios), però ho solo la versione sarda e inglese

Ti ringrazio, ma vedo che Shardana Ruju ha già provveduto

saluti padanisti

[BELLOVESO]

Originally posted by Shardana Ruju
"Procurad' 'e moderare,
barones sa tirannia,
chi si no, pro vida mia,
torrades a pè in terra!
declarada è già sa gherra
contra de sa prepotenzia,
e cominzia' sa passienzia
in su pobulu a faltare."

"Cercate di moderare,
baroni, la tirannide,
altrimenti, per la mia vita!,
tornate a piedi a terra!
dichiarata è già la guerra
contro la propotenza,
e comincia la pazienza
nel popolo a mancare."

*
"Custa , pobulus è s'ora
d'estirpare sos abusos!
a terra sos malos usos,
a terra su dispotismu!
Gherra, gherra a s'egoismu!
e gherra a sos oppressores,
custos tirannos minores
est preziosu umiliare."


"Questa, Popoli è l'ora,
di estirpare gli abusi!
a terra i cattivi usi,
a terra il dispotismo!
guerra, guerra all'egoismo!
e guerra agli oppressori,
questi tiranni di poco valore
bisogna umiliarli."


(di Francesco Ignazio Mannu, scritto nel 1796)

Si, ricordo di averlo ascoltato in una trasmissione in cui facevano ascoltare dei brani di Maria Carta; è del 1796, ma si tratta di un canto popolare rielaborato e scelto come inno nazionale o è stato composto per questo intento?

saluti padanisti

[Perdu]

Originally posted by BELLOVESO






Si, ricordo di averlo ascoltato in una trasmissione in cui facevano ascoltare dei brani di Maria Carta; è del 1796, ma si tratta di un canto popolare rielaborato e scelto come inno nazionale o è stato composto per questo intento?

saluti padanisti

scritto e composto per ricordare la sarda rivoluzione, ci sono alcuni pezzi molto pesanti contro i piemontesi

[BELLOVESO]

Originally posted by Perdu


scritto e composto per ricordare la sarda rivoluzione, ci sono alcuni pezzi molto pesanti contro i piemontesi

Beh, posta il resto dell'inno se l'hai sotto mano.

saluti padanisti

[Perdu]

Su Patriotu Sardu a sos Feudatarios
Inno Nazionale Sardo composto nel 1796 da Francesco Ignazio Mannu

(Translated by Raffaele Ladu)



Su Patriottu Sardu a sos Feudatarios - The Sardinian Patriot Tells the Feudatories


Testu Sardu English Translation

Procurad'e moderare,

Barones, sa tirannia,

Chi si no, pro vida mia,

Torrades a pe' in terra!

Declarada e' già sa gherra

Contra de sa prepotenzia,

e cominza' sa passienzia

In su pobulu a mancare.
01
Try and moderate,

Barons, your tyranny,

Otherwise, I swear upon my life,

You will be knocked down!

The war against arrogance

Has already been declared,

And the people's patience

Is going to run out!

Mirade ch'est'azzendende

Contra de 'ois su fogu;

Mirade chi no e' giogu

Chi sa cosa andat 'e veras;

Mirade chi sas aeras

Minnettana temporale;

Zente consizzada male,

Iscultade sa 'oghe mia.
02
Look out, as it is lightning

A fire at you;

Look out, it is not kidding,

It is acting seriously!

Look out, as the climate

Is getting stormy!

Ill-advised people,

Listen to my speech!

No apprettedas s'isprone

A su poveru runzinu,

Si no in mesu caminu

S'arrempellat appuradu;

Minzi ch'es lanzu e cansadu

E no nde pode' piusu;

Finalmente a fundu in susu

S'imbastu nd'hat a bettare.
03
Don't sink your spur

Into your poor nag,

Or in the midway hewill

Gets frisky and flares up!

Look out: he is lean and weary

and can't bear it anymore!

He eventually will turn

The yoke upside down!

Su pobulu chi in profundu

Letargu fi' sepultadu,

Finalmente despertadu,

S'abbizza' chest in cadena,

Ch'ista' suffrende sa pena

De s'indolenzia antiga:

Feudu, legge inimiga

A bona filosofia.
04
The people that was in deep

Lethargy buried,

Awaken at last

Notices itself chained,

Bearing the punishment

Of its ancient indolence:

Feudalism, a concept clashing

with any rational law.

Che ch'esseret una inza,

Una tanca, unu cunzadu,

Sas biddas hana donadu

De regalu o a bendissione;

Comente unu cumone

De bestias Berveghinas

Sos homines e femìnas

Han bendidu cun sa cria.
05
As if they were a vineyard,

An estate or a hamlet,

The townships have given them,

As gifts or for a song,

As if they were

A flock of sheep,

Men and women were so sold

with their offspring.

Pro pagas mizas de liras,

E tale olta pro niente,

Isclavas eternamente

Tantas pobulassiones,

E migliares de persones

Servint a unu tiranu.

Poveru generu humanu,

Povera sarda zenia!
06
For a few thousand Lire,

End sometimes for nothing,

Eternally slave several

Peoples were made,

And thousands people

Now serve a tyrant.

Poor humankind,

Poor Sardinian people!

Deghe o doighi familias

S'han partidu sa Sardigna,

De una manera indigna

Si nde sun fattas pobiddas;

Divididu s'han sas biddas

In sa zega antighidade:

Però sa presente edade

Lu pensat rimediare.
07
Ten or twelve families

Have shared out Sardinia,

In a shameful way

They became its lords;

They shared out the towns

In the blind old times,

But the present era

Is going to amend it.

Nasche' su Sardu soggettu

A milli cumandamentos:

Tributos e pagamentos

Chi faghet a su Segnore

In bestiamen e laore

In dinari e in natura;

E paga' pro sa pastura,

E paga' pro laorare.
08
A Sardininan is born subject

To thousand duties,

Tributes and payments

To be given to his Lord,

In cattle and corn,

In money and goods;

He pays for the meadow,

He pays also to plough.

Meda innantis de sos feudos

Esistiana sas biddas,

Et issas fini pobiddas

De saltos e biddattones.

Comente a bois, Barones,

Sa cosa anzena es passada?

Cuddu chi bos l'ha' dada

Non bos la podia' dare.
09
Long before the Fiefs

There were the Townships,

Which were masters

Of woods and country.

How could it be, Barons, that somebody

Else's estate was conveyed to you?

Those who gave it to you

Were not entitled to!

No es mai presumibile

Chi voluntariamente

Happa' sa povera zente

Zedidu a tale derettu;

Su titulo ergo est'infettu,

De infeudassione,

E i sas biddas reione

Tenen de l'impugnare.
10
It is preposterous to assume

That poor people willingly

Conveyed such land rights!

The titles are therefore

Objectionable

Due to infeudation,

And the townships are right

In challenging them!

Sas tassas in su prinzipiu

Esigiazis limitadas,

Dae pustis sun andadas

Ogni die aumentende,

A misura chi crescende

Sezis andados in fastu,

A misura chi in su gastu

Lassezis s'economia.
11
In the beginning you levied

Only a few taxes,

But then they kept

Rising every day

According to the growth

In your luxury,

According to the dwindling

Of your spareness.

No bos balet allegare

S'antiga possessione;

Cun minettas de presone,

Cun castigos e cun penas,

Cun zippos e cun cadenas,

Sos poveros ignorantes,

Derettos esorbitantes

Hazis forzadu a pagare.
12
It is worthless to claim

Your ancient possession:

By threats with jail,

By punishments and penalties,

By stumps and chains,

The ignorant poors

Were forced to pay

Exorbitant duties.

A su mancu s'impleerent

In mantenner sa giustissia,

Gastighende sa malissia

De sos malos de su logu;

A su mancu disaogu

Sos bonos poterant tenner,

Poterant andare e benner

Seguros per i sa via.
13
If only had they been used

To keep the King's Peace,

By punishing the malice

Of the felons among us:

At least the goodies

Could feel relieved,

And safe could they

come and go their way.

Es cussu s'unicu fine

De ogni tassa e derettu,

Chi seguru, e chi chiettu

Sutta sa legge si vivat;

De custu fine nos privat

Su Barone pro avarissia.

In sos gastos de giustissia

Faghe' solu economia.
14
It is the only goal

Of any tax or duty:

That safe and quiet anybody

Abiding by the law may live;

But of such a goal we are

Deprived by the Baron's avarice:

He only spares the

Justicial expenses!

Su primu chi si presentat

Si nominat offisiale,

Fatta' bene o fatta' male

Basta non chirche' salariu:

Procuradore o Notariu,

O camareri o lacaju,

Sia' murru o sia' baju,

E' bonu pro guvernare.
15
The first comer

Is appointed "officer",

Be it a good or bad doer, it's

Enough that he doesn't seek a pay:

Attorney or notary,

Waiter or lackey,

Be it Black or White,

He is deemed good to govern.

Basta chi preste sa manu

Pro fagher crescher sa rènta,

Basta' chi fatta' cuntenta

Sa buscia de su Segnore;

Chi aggiuet a su fattore

A crobare prontamente,

E s'algunu es renitente

Chi l'iscat esecutare.
16
It is enough that he does something

To raise the rent;

It is enough that he has

His Lord's Purse replenished;

That he helps the farm manager

To swiftly collect his duties,

And if somebody is reluctant,

That he is able to shake him down!

A boltas, de podattariu,

Guverna' su cappellanu

Sas biddas cun una manu

Cun s'attera sa dispensa.

Feudatariu, pensa,

Chi sos vassallos non tener

Solu pro crescher sos benes,

Solu pro l'iscorzare.
17
At times, as a vassal, it is

The chaplain who governs

The towns with a hand,

And his pantry with the other.

Feudatory, think

That you don'k keep vassals

To increase your wealth,

Only to skin them!

Su patrimoniu, sa vida,

Pro difender, su villanu

Con sas armas a sa manu

Chere' ch'iste' notte e die;

Già ch'hat a esser gasie,

Proite tantu tributu?

Si non si nd'hat haer fruttu

Es locura su pagare.
18
To defend your estate, your life,

You force the villein

To stand weapons-in-hand

Day and night;

As things run as such,

Why so harsh a tribute?

If you don't get a profit,

It is foolish to pay.

Si su Barone non faghet

S'obligassione sua,

Vassallu, de parte tua,

A nudda ses obbligadu;

Sos derettos ch'ha' crobadu

In tantos annos passados,

Sunu dinaris furados

E ti los deve' torrare.
19
If the Baron doesn't perform

What he is bound to,

Vassal, you are

Bound to nothing!

The duties he has collected

In so many years

Are stolen money,

And he has to pay you back!

Sas rentas servini solu

Pro mantenner cicisbeas,

Pro carrozzas e livreas,

Pro inutiles servissios,

Pro alimentare sos vissios,

Pro giogare a sa bassetta,

E pro poder sa braghetta

Fora de domo isfogare.
20
The rents are only used

To maintain sluts,

To buy coaches and liveries,

To get useless services,

To encourage vice,

To play "bassetta",

And to be able to vent

Your lust far from home!

Pro poder tenner piattos,

Bindighi e vinti in sa mesa,

Pro chi potta' sa marchesa

Sempre andare in portantina;

S'iscarpa istrinta, mischina,

La faghet andare a toppu,

Sas pedras punghene troppu

E non pode' camminare.
21
To have fifteen or twenty dishes

Cooked for your meal,

To allow the marchioness to be

Always carried in sedan chair:

Her tight shoes force

Her to limp, poor lady;

Stones hurt too much,

So she can't walk!

Pro una littera solu

Su vassallu, poverinu,

Faghe' dies de caminu

A pe', senz'esser pagadu,

Mesu iscurzu e isporzadu,

Espostu a dogni inclemenzia;

Eppuru tene' passienzia,

Eppuru deve'cagliare.
22
For just a letter,

The poor vassal

Has to travel for several days,

Tirelessly walking, without pay,

Ill-shod and barely dressed,

Exposed to bad-weather;

But he is patient,

He ought to hush.

Ecco comente s'implea

De su poveru su suore!

Comente, Eternu Segnore,

Suffrides tanta ingiustissia?

Bois, Divina Giustissia,

Remediade sas cosas,

Bois, da ispinas, rosas

Solu podides bogare.
23
Behold how it is used

The poor man's sweat!

How could you, Eternal Lord,

Bear so blatant an injustice?

You, Divine Justice, pray,

Amend such things!

Only you can turn

Thorns into roses!

O poveros de sas biddas,

Trabagliade, trabagliade

Pro mantenner in zittade

Tantos caddos de istalla,

A bois lassan sa palla,

Issos regoglin su ranu:

E pensan sero e manzanu

Solamente a ingrassare.
24
O poors living in town,

You are working, you keep working

To maintain in town

These stable horses;

You are left with the stalk,

They collect the corn;

And from morning to evening

They only think to getting fat.

Su Segnor Feudatariu

A sas undighi si pesa':

Da e su lettu a sa mesa,

Da e sa mesa a su giogu:

E pustis, pro disaogu

Andat a cicisbeare;

Giompid'a iscurigare:

Teatru, ballu, allegria.
25
The Feudal Lord

Wakes up at eleven;

He strolls from the bed to the table,

From the eating to the gambling table;

Then, as a sport,

He begins flirting.

As dusk approaches,

He goes to theatre, ball, merrymaking.

Cantu differentemente

Su vassallu passa' s'ora!

Innantis de s'aurora

Già es bessidu in campagna;

Bentu o nie in sa muntagna,

In su paris, sole ardente.

O poverittu! Comente

Lu podet agguantare?
26
How differently

The vassal spends his time!

Before dawn

He has already gone to country;

Be wind or snow in mountain,

Or hot weather as well.

Poor mite! How

Can he bear all that?

Cun su zappu e cun s'aradu

Pelea' tota sa die;

A ora de mesu die

Si ziba' de solu pane.

Mezzus paschidu e' su cane

De su Barone, in zittade,

S'es' de cudda calidade

Chi in falda solen portare.
27
With hoe and plough

He struggles the whole day;

At midday

He can only eat bread.

Better eats the

Baron's dog in town,

If it belongs to

The lap-dogs breed.

Timende chi si reforment

Disordines tantos mannos,

Cun manizzos et ingannos

Sas Cortes hana impediu;

Et isperdere han cherfidu

Sos patrizios pius zelantes,

Nende chi fin petulantes

E contra sa Monarchia.
28
Fearing that so serious disorders

Would have eventually been reformed,

They barred the Court's action

With plots and lies;

And they had disbanded

The most zealous patricians,

Under the pretence of petulance

And plotting against the King.

Ai cuddos ch'in favore

De sa patria han peroradu,

Chi s'ispada hana 'ogadu

Pro sa causa comune,

O a su tuju sa fune

Cherian ponner, meschinos!

O comente a Giacobinos

Los cherian massacrare.
29
Those who pleaded

Our country's cause,

Those who unsheathed the

Sword for our common sake,

Were to be hung to

The gallows, poor heros!

Or to be massacred

Like Jacobins!

Però su Chelu ha' difesu

Sos bonos visibilmente,

Atterradu ha' su potente,

Ei s'umile esaltadu.

Deus, chis 'es declaradu

Pro custa patria nostra,

De ogn'insidia bostra

Isse nos hat a salvare.
30
But Heaven has clearly

Defended the Goodies:

He brought down the mighties,

And raised the humble up!

God, who has pledged His

Support to our land,

Will save us from

Any of your snares.

Perfidu Feudatariu!

Pro interesse privadu

Protettore declaradu

Ses de su Piemontesu.

Cun issu ti fist'intesu

Cun meda fazilidade;

Isse pà pada in zittade,

E tue in bidda a porfia.
31
Treacherous Feudatory!

Your own interest

Made you the avowed

Protector of the Piedmontese!

You got even too

Well with him:

He gobbles up in city,

You follow suit in town.

Fi' pro sos Piemontesos

Sa Sardigna una cuccagna;

Che in sas Indias s'Ispagna

Issos incontrant inoghe;

Nos alzaia' sa 'oghe

Finzas unu camareri;

O plebeu o cavaglieri,

Si deviat umiliare.
32
Sardinia has always been a

Bonanza for the Piedmontese:

They feel here like

Spaniards in their Indies.

Even a waiter was allowed

To tell us off: had we been

Plebeians or knights,

We had to bow down.

Issos da e custa terra

Ch'hana 'ogadu miliones

Benian senza calzones

E si nd'andaian gallonados.

Mai ch'esserent istados

Chi ch'hana postu su fogu!

Malaitu cuddu logu,

Chi creia' tale zenia!
33
They have drawn millions

From our land!

They come bare-butted and

Went home covered with stripes.

We wish they had never come,

As they have plundered our land!

Cursed be the place

Which has begotten such a breed!

Issos inoghe incontràna

Vantaggiosos imeneos

Pro issos fin sos impleos,

Pro issos fin sos onores,

Sas dignidades mazores

De cheia, toga e ispada:

E a su Sardu restàda

Una fune a s'impiccare.
34
They arrange exceedingly

Favourable weddings;

All the employments are for them,

For them are all the honours, and

All major dignities of

The Church, the Bench and the Sword:

To the Sardinian is only left

A rope for hanging himself to.

Sos disculos nos mandàna

Pro castigu e curressione,

Cun paga e cun pensione,

Cun impleu e cun patente.

In Moscovia tale zente

Si mandat a sa Siberia,

Pro chi morza' de miseria,

Però no pro guvernare.
35
They send us the rascals,

As to punish and amend them,

With salary and pension,

With employment and letters patent.

In Moscovia such people

Is sent to Siberia,

As to let them die of poverty,

Not to let them govern at all!

Intantu in s'Isula nostra

Numerosa giuventude

De talentu e de virtude

Oziosa la lassàna:

E si alguna nd'impleanàna

Chircaian su pius tontu,

Pro chi lis torrat a contu

Cun zente zega a trattare.
36
Meanwhile, in our island

Plenty of talented and

Worthy youth

Are kept idle;

If somebody were to be employed,

The dullest one would be hired,

As it is most handy for them

To deal with clueless people.

Si in impleos subalternos

Algunu Sardu avanzàda

In regalos no bastàda

Su mesu de su salariu,

Mandare fi' nezessariu

Caddos de casta a Turinu,

E bonas cassas de binu,

Canonau e malvasia.
37
If a low-ranking Sardinian

Civil Servant got promoted,

He would have to give away

More than half his wage, as

He would have to send

Purebreed horses to Turin,

And crates of good wine,

Cannonau and Malvasia.

Tirare a su Piemonte

Sa prata nostra e i s'oro

Es de su governu insoro

Massima fundamentale.

Su Regnu, ande' bene o male,

No lis importa niente,

Antis, creen incumbeniente

Lassarelu prosperare.
38
Taking to Piedmont

Our gold and silver

Is the basic pursuit

Of their government.

Be the Kingdom in good or poor shape,

They don't care of it;

Rather, they deem harmful

Letting it thrive.

S'Isula hat arruinadu

Custa razza de bastardos;

Sos pivilegios sardos

Issos nos hana leadu,

Da e sos Archivios furadu

Nos hana sa mezzus pezzas,

E che iscritturas bezzas

L'has hana fatta' bruiare.
39
This breed of bastards

Has ruined our Island;

They have repealed

The Sardinian privileges,

And also stolen the best papers

From our Archives.

As if they were useless waste

They had them burned.

De custu flagellu, in parte,

Deus nos ha' liberadu;

Sos Sardos ch'hana 'ogadu

Custu dannosu inimigu;

E tue li ses amigu,

O sardu Barone indignu;

E tue ses in s'impignu

De nde lu fagher torrare!
40
God has, partly, delivered us

Of such a plague;

The Sardinians have driven out

This harmful foe;

But you, unworthy Sardinian Baron,

Are his friend;

And you have pledged

To make him come back!

Pro custu, iscaradamente,

Preigas pro Piemonte,

Falzu! Chi portas in fronte

Su marcu de traitore;

Fizas tuas tant'honore

Faghent a su furisteri,

Mancari sia' basseri,

Basta chi Sardu no sia'.
41
This is why you shamelessly

Praise the Piedmont,

Liar! As you bear the traitor's

Hallmark in your forehead;

Your daughters love and

Cherish the foreigners,

Even the potty-washers,

As they are not Sardinians.

S'accas'andas a Turinu,

Inie basare dès

A su Ministru sos pes,

E ater su ..., già m'intendes,

Pro ottenner su chi pretendes

Bendes sa patria tua,

E procuras forsi a cua

Sos Sardos iscreditare.
42
If you chance to go to Turin,

Here you have to kiss

The Minister's feet,

And even his ... - you know!

To obtain what you demand

You sell your land

And perhaps you stealthily attempt

To discredit the Sardinians!

Sa buscia lassas inie,

Et in premiu nde torras

Una rughitta in pettorras,

Unu giae in su traseri;

Pro fagher su quarteri

Sa domo has arruinadu,

E titulu has acchistadu

De traitore e ispia.
43
You leave your purse there,

And you are presented with

A petty cross to pin to your chest,

And a key to hang to your butt;

To build a barrack

You have depleted your home,

And you have got the title

Of traitor and Spy!

Su Chelu no lassa' sempre

Sa malissia triunfare;

Su mundu dee' reformare

Sas cosas ch'andana male;

Su sistema feudale

Non pode' durare meda,

Custu bender pro moneda

Sos Pobulos, dee' sensare.
44
The Heaven won't leave

Malice win forever;

The World has to reform

What goes wrong;

Feudalism

Won't last long.

Such selling Peoples

For money has to stop.

S'homine chi s'impostura

Haia' già degradadu,

Pare' chi a s'antigu gradu

Alzare cherfa' de nou;

Pare' chi su rangu sou

Pretenda s'humanidade ...

Sardos mios, ischidade

E sighide custa ghia.
45
The man debased

By his deceit

Is apparently trying

To get his ancient dignity back;

It seems that his rank

Is claiming its share of humanity ...

Dear Sardinians, beware

And follow this lead!

Custa, pobulos, e' s'ora

D'estirpare sos abusos!

A terra sos malos usos,

A terra su dispotismu!

Gherra, gherra a s'egoismu,

E gherra a sos oppressores,

Custos tirannos minores

Es prezisu umiliare.
46
Peoples, it's high time

To eradicate all abuses!

Down with the bad uses,

Down with despotism!

Fight, fight to selfishness,

And war against oppressors:

These petty tyrants

Deserve their humiliation!

Si no, calchi die a mossu

Bo nde segade' su didu:

Como ch'e' su filu ordidu

A bois toccat a tessere;

Minzi chi poi det essere

Tardu s'arrepentimentu;

Cando si tene' su bentu

Es prezisu bentulare.
47
If you don't, sooner or later you'll

Bite your fingers to cut them off:

Now that the thread is warped,

You have to weave;

Look out, as it may be

Too late to repent:

When there is wind you only

Have the chance to thresh!