O rinninedda ca passi lu mari,

Fermati quantu ti dicu du paroli,

Quantu ti tiru na pinna di st’ali,

Quantu fazzu na littra a lu me amuri.

Amuri, amuri, quantu si luntanu,

Cu ti lu conza lu littu la sira?

Cu ti lu conza, ti lu conza malu

Malatiddu ti truvi lu matinu.

Cunzari ti lu vurria cu li me manu,

Quantu di malatiddu stassuvu bunu.


O young swallow that fly across the sea,

Stop here! I want to tell you a few words.

I want to pull out a quill from your wing,

To write a letter to my love.

Love, love, what a long distance between us!

Who makes your bed in the evening?

The one who makes it, does not do well,

For, in the morning you get up sickly.

I wish I could make your bed with my hands.

So that, you could recover and grow healthy.

Ettore Grillo author of these books:

November 2: The Day of the Dead in Sicily

– A Hidden Sicilian History

– The Vibrations of Words

– Travels of the Mind

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s