Ah, The Paternal Hand

Andrea Bocelli

Oh children, oh my children
To that monster everyone murdered
And together with you, your mother
The poor thing
From the hands of the tiger
I leave my mother and my children

Ah, the paternal hand was not a shield,
Oh my dears
The mean killer and the dead
And wounded
And we ran in the cave and we
Screamed in vain
With the last, with the last breath
Ah! we ran from the killer,
While god was looking we ran
Into his open arms we asked


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