Texts of the Neapolitan songs

Me vuò dà 'a 'ntennere,
M' 'o vvuò fà credere
Ca me vuò troppo bbene,
Ca, nun vedennome,
T' 'a passe a chiagnere,
Te siente dint' ê ppene.
Ma è maje possibile
Ch'esce 'na lacrema
A dint'a 'st'uocchie, oje nè?
Tu 'o ssaje ca 'e llacreme
'St'uocchie t' 'e sciupano.
Tu 'o ssaje cchiù meglio 'e me.

Ammore 'e femmena
È 'nu ricamo 'e chiacchiere:
Parole ca lusingano,
Prumesse ca se scordano.
È 'na buscia,
'Mpastata 'e mele e zuccaro,
'Na fantasia
Ca vene e se ne va.

Quanta miracule
Pò fà 'na femmena
Si 'a lassa 'o 'nnammurato.
Ma 'nu remmedio
S' 'o trova subbeto,
Se calma e penza a 'n'ato.
Comme s'attaccano,
Se ponno sciogliere
Tutt' 'e ccatene, oje nè.
È accussì facile
A cagnà maschera
Comme faje tu cu mme.

Ammore 'e femmena
È 'nu ricamo 'e chiacchiere:
Parole ca lusingano,
Prumesse ca se scordano.
È 'na buscia,
'Mpastata 'e mele e zuccaro,
'Na fantasia
Ca vene e se ne va.

Tu mò, sentennome,
Te miette a ridere,
Me faje 'stu pizzo a riso.
Sì amara e spruceta,
Sì doce e affabile,
Ll'Inferno e 'o Paraviso.
E tu saje ridere
Pe' me fà dicere
Chello ca dice tu.
Ma nun 'o perdere
'Stu tiempo, è inutile,
Io nun te credo cchiù!

Ammore 'e femmena
È 'nu ricamo 'e chiacchiere:
Parole ca lusingano,
Prumesse ca se scordano.
È 'na buscia,
'Mpastata 'e mele e zuccaro,
'Na fantasia
Ca vene e se ne va.

You want to make me think,
You want to make me believe
That you love me so much,
That, without seeing me,
You begin to cry,
You feel the pain.
But is it possible
That a tear can appear
In your eyes, oh dear?
You know that tears
Don't beautify your eyes.
You know it better than me.

Woman's love
Is an embroidery of twaddle:
Words that are seducing,
Promises that we often forget.
It's a lie,
Mixed with honey and sugar,
It's a fancy
That comes and goes away.

How many lamentations
Can a woman do
If her lover leaves her.
But a remedy
She can find it immediately,
She calms herself and thinks of another.
How fetters the chain
It also can break,
Any chain, oh dear.
It's so easy
To change a mask
Like you do it with me.

Woman's love
Is an embroidery of twaddle:
Words that are seducing,
Promises that we often forget.
It's a lie,
Mixed with honey and sugar,
It's a fancy
That comes and goes away.

Now, listening to me,
You begin to laugh,
You scoff at me.
You are bitter and rough,
You are sweet and kind,
Like the Hell and the Paradise.
You can laugh,
Telling me
What you are telling now.
But don't waste the time,
It's useless,
I don't believe you anymore!

Woman's love
Is an embroidery of twaddle:
Words that are seducing,
Promises that we often forget.
It's a lie,
Mixed with honey and sugar,
It's a fancy
That comes and goes away.