Fabrizio De André (1940–1999)

De André was one of the best known representatives of Italian songwriting in the second half of the 20th century. He belongs to the history of Ligurian literature because he is now an “iconic” character – as we say today – and in fact, his two albums Creusa de mâ (1984) and Le nuvole (1990), in their time, had a great impact on the image of Ligurian and Genoese in the world. According to F. Toso, De André succeeded in making Genoa a symbol of the Mediterranean world. There was no lack of criticism regarding the language he used, which was largely invented and artificial; and also regarding the content, based at times on inconsistent historical references. Nevertheless, De André had the ability to invoke an international perspective and way of thinking, to put words and expressions back into circulation giving them new meaning and vigour, and to make them known to the world. Thanks to him, some interest in a language that was on the verge of dying was rekindled among the youth of a certain generation, resulting in the flourishing of groups, singers and musicians who, since the late 1980s, have been making music in Genoese.

Jamiña

The strong erotic – rather than pornographic – content of the lyrics, not uncommon also in De André’s Italian production, seems to be an expression of energy and lust for life, manifested in a way which breaks with established rules. As mentioned above, some made up words can be found, such as “umedo” instead of “umio” and “arveâ” instead of “boggio” or “bresca” in the sense of beehive. These choices appear pointless, since more genuine terms still exist in Genoese. The only justification may be the metrical rendering, the need to form a verse of fourteen syllables, a double septenary, or to have a rhyme at the end of the verse (“boggio” or “bresca” do not rhyme with “demoâ”).

Lengua affeugâ Jamiña, loa de pelle scua,
co-a bocca spalancâ, mòrscio de carne dua,
stella neigra ch’a luxe, me veuggio demoâ
inte l’umedo doçe de l’amê do teu arveâ.
Mæ seu Jamiña, ti me perdoniæ
se no riëscio à ëse pòrco, comme i teu pensê.
Destacchite, Jamiña, lerfe de uga spiña,
fatte ammiâ, Jamiña, roggio de mossa piña.
E o moro into suô, sugo de sâ de cheusce,
dove gh’é pei gh’é amô, surtaña de bagasce.
Dagghe cianin Jamiña, no navegâ de sponda,
primma che a coæ ch’a monta e a chiña
no me se desfe inte l’onda.
E l’urtimo respio, Jamiña, regiña moæ de sambe,
me ô tëgno pe sciortî vivo da-o groppo de teu gambe.

Creusa de mâ

In this famous song, we find a sense of adventure, but also a taste for original juxtapositions, bordering on the nonsensical, somewhat like the contemporary poetry of Guidoni and others.

Ombre de mori, mori de mainæ,
donde ne vegnî, dove l’é ch’anæ?
Da un scito dove a luña a se mostra nua
e a neutte a n’à pontou o cotello a-a goa
e à montâ l’ase gh’é restou Dio
o Diao o l’é in çê e o se gh’à fæto o nio.
Ne sciortimmo da-o mâ pe sciugâ e òsse da-o Dria
a-a fontaña de combi inta cà de pria.

E inta cà de pria chi ghe saià,
inta cà do Dria ch’o no l’é mainâ?
Gente de Lugan, facce da mandillâ,
quei che do loasso preferiscian l’aa,
figge de famiggia odô de bon,
che ti peu ammiâle sensa o gondon.

E à ste panse veue cöse ghe daiâ,
cöse da beive, cöse da mangiâ?
Fritua de pigneu, gianco de Portofin,
çervelle de bæ into mæximo vin,
lasagne de fidiâ a-i quattro tocchi,
pacciugo in ægrodoçe de levre de coppi.

E inta barca do vin ghe naveghiemo in scî scheuggi,
emigranti do rie co-i ciöi inti euggi,
finché o mattin crescià da poeilo recheugge,
fræ di ganeuffani e de figge,
baccan da còrda marsa d’ægua e de sâ,
ch’a ne liga e a ne pòrta int’unna creusa de mâ.