Mingħajr flus,
La tgħannaq u lanqas tbus –
Hekk qalulna l-imgħallma tal-passat.
Nesew javżawna *** is-serq sfaċċat;
Lanqas ħasbu *** kif il-moralita’ ta’ pajjiżna spiċċat.

Qawl li jiżvela realta’ kerha;
Messaġġ li tassew iġegħlek tħares lejn il-mera.
Mingħajr flus, aqbad u insa’ d-drittijiet!
Dak li qiegħed ngħid m’huwiex sigriet;
Għall-liberta’ tal-pajjiż,
Bkew l-ommijiet, u mietu l-missirijiet.

Issa, minflok, il-liberta’ tmur għand l-ogħla negozjant.
Sadanittant, tefawha ghal bejgħ, u gidbulek;
Qalulek li għal ġid tiegħek,
Huma u jidħku bik u jdeffsu idejhom ġo butek.

Bil-flus, mela, tagħmel triq fil-baħar!
Bil-flus, ibni torri ħalli jkollok biex tiftaħar!
Mingħajr il-flus, insa’ s-saqaf *** rasek,
Ara taħseb li xi ħadd ħa jagħti kasek!
Mingħajr il-flus, ara minn fejn ha ġġib l-ikel,
Kif ħa titma lill-uliedek mingħajr ma jkollok tfittex fiż-żibel.

Bil-flus, pero’, tħabbilx moħħok;
Mill-maġġoranza tal-poplu,
Tistħix tigi alabibżobbok.
Mistoqsija waħda għad fadalli:
Gheżież antenati li ġew qabilna, li messew xtutna –
Hawn x’għamilna lilna nfusna?

__________

(in English)

Without money,
You shall receive neither hugs, nor kisses -
That's what the wise men of old said.
They forgot to warn us about shameless theft;
They didn't think about our country's morality,
In decline.

A proverb that reveals an ugly truth;
A message that forces you to really look at a mirror.
Without money, forget your rights!
What I am now saying is no secret;
For this country's liberty,
Mothers have cried, fathers have died.

Nowadays, liberty goes to the highest bidder;
In the mean time, they put it up for sale, lying to you;
They told you it's for your own good,
As they laugh and dip their hands in your pockets.

With money, then, build a road in the sea!
With money, build a tower so you'll have plenty to boast about!
Without money, forget a roof over your head;
Don't even think someone will pay attention!
Without money, figure out where food is coming from,
How you're gonna feed your kids without dipping your hands in trash.

With money, however, don't fret;
As for the rest of the population,
Do not be embarrassed to admit you don't give a ****.
I only have one question left:
Dear ancestors who came before us, who touched our shores -
What have we done to ourselves?

If we could be, free to see,
through shrouds of shame
and all the games

Then maybe so, we could grow,
To grasp together in what we know

As more than a notion of shared emotion,
intertwined and fastened,
in truth and in passion,
as two, together,
as one.

When summer ends and it’s fall time,
they'll be no floating with my wine.

No more upon the float I'll lie
amused by moon-lit clouds up high.

No more the current of the pool
adrift around the bank so cool.

No meditations in the night.
No solace, cloaked in inky sight.

And yet, t'is but a price I'll pay
to see an end to summer's sway.

My nightly swims, I gladly cease
to gain the autumn's cool release.

So, for the *****, I nightly glide.
But, friends in thee, I must confide...

I wait with glee for leaves to turn
and for wood smoke, begin to yearn.

Address a letter to noone ever
And send it on it's way
Into the gloom of another well packed bag
To be carried out and then whisked away

Let your focus not fall on the other
Let the falsehood, the penmanship
And all of the subtle friendlessness
Be mailed into the distant future
Far far away

Just address a letter to no one ever
And alone forever you'll ever stay