insolito

Certo, invia pure il testo e procederò con la traduzione.

I was born on December 7th, damn it.

I have no words in front of your arrogance. IDIOTS AND I REITERATE, IDIOTS.

O my homeland, I see the walls and the arches
And the columns and the statues and the desolate
Towers of our ancestors,
But I see no glory,
I see not the laurel and the iron that were heavy
On our ancient fathers. Now left defenseless,
Bare the forehead and bare the chest you show.
Alas how many wounds,
What bruises, what blood! Oh what do I see,
Most beautiful woman! I ask heaven
And the world: tell me, tell me;
Who brought you to such a state? And this is worse,
That with chains both arms are burdened;
So that with hair disheveled and without a veil
You sit on the neglected ground, desolate,
Hiding your face
Between your knees, and weeping.
Weep, for you have good reason, my Italy,
Born to conquer nations
Both in fortune and in misfortune.

If your eyes were two living springs,
Never could tears
Match your damage and your disgrace;
For you were a woman, now you are a poor maid.
Who speaks of you or writes,
That, remembering your past glory,
Does not say: it was once great, now it is not?
Why, why? Where is the ancient strength,
Where are the arms and valor and steadfastness?
Who unbuckled your sword?
Who betrayed you? What art or what toil
Or what such might
Was worth stripping you of your mantle and your golden bands?
How did you fall or when
From such height to such a low place?
No one fights for you? Does none of yours defend you?
The arms, here the arms: I alone
Will fight, I shall succumb alone.
Grant me, O heaven, that my blood
Be fire to Italian hearts.

The grades, the 1s, don't matter to me; MY LIFE IS BASED NOT ON NUMBERS LIKE YOURS, BUT ON HAPPINESS. You, shit, float on the sea of an April pig.

The grades, the 1s, don't matter to me; MY LIFE IS BASED NOT ON NUMBERS LIKE YOURS, BUT ON HAPPINESS. You, shit, float on the sea of an April pig.

Sure; that was my opinion about the krau: see, you don't understand? What the hell, are you really slow?? GRAB YOUR ASS, ASSHOLE.

balls* obviously, before some little teacher pulls out the grammar. Little jerks.

But you are a bunch of idiots, for the most part. That's the reality. I'm a different kind of idiot, more of a freak, who doesn’t consider myself superior like you do instead. Idiots full of yourselves. Learn a bit of humility, or else Dante will send you to hell, swimming in shit. Oops, you're already doing that; the shit is your pointless life and you are wallowing in it quite well. >Here's my little rant, ugly mugs.

Franci, you shut up too, you don’t even know the record! And you wouldn’t understand a damn thing about Dylan... idiot.