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E 'born to confinement,
Poor kid, no father and many
curls.
The wool has grown.
under the belly of the sheep
aping David.

died of sun on the oracle infamous
great light straw
wiped sweat.

Six brothers farm,
Ucciardone a father, a mother
underground
four poles are a world
creased from sleep short.

Sicily and be, be a smoke

do not know how it is turned on and off,
Nzu Tumminia and those who can collect. Why
the island ends in the look
want that too.

David grows,
palermo unknown
shrinks the muscle of honor.
Ammazzari, ammazzari,
well as the local priest
with silence did not wish to deny.

To those nights when your sisters

you passed under the table and you Mustaccioli

gently with his teeth, and pinched it should remember the last brave


under that black helmet and a gun in his hands
Death in your morning stretch
the crowd.

Honor is alive but in prison there is a


proud to have a dead son.