by Pino Cariati
I see three roses hanging from a vine
I don't know which is the first that will be mine
I don't know which is the first that will be mine
People are saying: if You take the first
Soon You will get both the second and the third
Suddenly You’ll get both the second and the third
The oldest that of the ocean has the keys
Rules all the ships sailing on the seven seas
She guides the ships sailing on the seven seas
The smallest knows how to play your day
The middlest knows how to swindle out your way
Pay close attention from the first to last
Because on these flowers, best You have no trust
Because on these flowers, best You have no trust
‘cause behind their beauty ‘n captivating forms
They’re prompt to kiss You and stab You with their thorns
They’re prompt to love You and kiss You with their thorns
The youngest waits spinning out your lot
The middlest weaves all your life inside her plot
Knot after knot She wraps you inside her plot
The oldest forsakes You on a little yawl
Lost in the ocean She blows to sail your soul
Through a tempest storm that puts anguish in your soul
I see three roses hanging from a vine
One after one all these flowers must be mine
I have to force all these mysteries to be mine
Because I know whether I'll sail or walk
I’ll find a light that will lead me to the port
Anyway I’ll find my peace in the brightness of a port.