La Miéu Bella Nissa
(My fair Nice)
or Canson dòu sourdà niçart en Lombardìa en 1848 (Song of the soldier from Nice in Lombardy on 1848)
Nissart lyrics by Eugène Emanuel (1848), music according to Le Cheval de bronze (The Bronze Horse), n° 9: tune “Quand on est fille, hélas !” (When we are a girl, alas!), by Daniel François Esprit Auber.
Traditional from County of Nice.

The French original lyrics by René d’Helbingue are not reproduced here. The text given corresponds to the literal translation from the version in Nissart.

This text evokes the nostalgia of a small farmer from Nice, far away from home, left to win his stripes on the Lombard battlefields during the Piedmontese Risorgimento and wars for Italy unity.

Watercolour by Gustav Adolf Mossa published in Chansons niçoises (“Songs from Nice”), éd. Delrieu frères, to illustrate La Miéu Bella Nissa.		1st verse
		O tu, la miéu bella Nissa Coura voli emb’au pensié, Dapé de li tiéu taulissa Tra li rega d’oulivié, Lou couor palpita de plési E mille dous souveni Mi rappellon lu bei an         Qu’èri enfan ; Coura courii per lu prat E sautavi lu valat Coum’un pichoun devagat. L’aubre flourit, un parpaioun, O lou chièu-chièu d’un passeroun Mi rendion tant countènt : Eri gai, san e riènt.		O! you, my fair Nice When I’m flying in my mind, Near your roofs [seen] Between the lines of olive trees, The heart quivers of pleasure And a thousand sweet memories Remember me the fine years         When I was a child; When I was running through the meadows And jumping over the brooks (ditches) As does a small dissipated. The tree in blossom, a butterfly, Or the tweet-tweet of a sparrow Made me so glad: I was happy, healthy and smiling.
		Chorus
		O bei tem, o bella Nissa A tu voli emb’au pensié, Saludi li tiéu taulissa, Lu tiéu bei pourtegalié.		O! beautiful weather, o! fair Nice Toward you I’m flying in my mind, I give my regards to your roofs, To your beautiful orange trees.
		2nd verse
		E saludi li coulina Qu’an un sourire eternel. Senti la brisa marina, Vèu l’azur dou tiéu bèu ciel. Pi, lou pensié courre à maioun : Vèu lavesou, fugairoun, La mastra, lou gros taulié         De nouguié. Vèu la careta, lou magau, La pouièra, lou destrau ; Audi lou can que fà « bau » ! En un cantoun vèu lou miéu brès. Audi cantà, e noun sentès, Ma maire que di : « Pichoun, Enduerme-ti, doun, doun, doun... »		And I give my regards to the hills Which have an eternal smile. I feel the sea breeze, I see the azure of your beautiful sky. And besides my mind runs toward home: I see [the] cauldron, [the] hearth, The bread box, the large table         Of walnut. I see the cart, the hook (spade), The billhook, the axe; I hear the dog which does “woof”! In a corner I see my crib. I hear singing, don’t you hear her?, My mother who says: “Son, Go to sleep, bye-byes...”
		Chorus
		O bei luec, o bella Nissa A tu voli emb’au pensié, Saludi li tiéu taulissa, Lu tiéu bei pourtegalié.		O! lovely place, o! fair Nice Toward you I’m flying in my mind, I give my regards to your roofs, To your beautiful orange trees.
		3rd verse
		Libertà ! Au cri de guerra Qu’en Italia as fach levà, Ai suivit la tiéu bandièra, Lou paisan s’es fà sourdà. Tra la poussièra dai coumbàt Coum’un brave ai caminat Sensa cregne ni mousquet         Ni boulet. Siéu dou pais dai Seguran ; Ai de pièch e cour’ai fam Mi manji cinq Aléman. Ma coura au soir, su lou miéu sac, Gusti lou repau dou bivac, Mi senti veni de luèn, Su la brisa, un dous refrèn		Freedom! To shouts of war Which in Italy you (1) made rising up, I followed you flag (banner), The small farmer became a soldier. In the dust of fought As a brave I trudged Without being scared of musket         Nor cannonball. I’m from the country of Seguran; I have chest and when I feel hungry I eat five Germans (2). But when in the evening, on my haversack, I enjoy the rest of bivouac, I sense coming, from away, On the breeze, a sweet tune
		Chorus
		Que di : « La miéu bella Nissa Coura voli etc. »		Which says: “My fair Nice When I’m flying etc.”
		4th verse
		Mi counsouola, mi recrèa L’espoir que retournerai Manjà la tourta de blea, Li faveta au mès de mai, Su l’erba embé de saucissoun, Una trancha de jamboun, Un bouon tomou de braquet         De Bellet ! Que reveirai lu berninsòu, Li bouscarla, lu faiou, Li belouna trent’au sou ! Qu’en janvié veirai mile flou Sourti dapé dai cauléflou... Coura, en là, tout es gelat, Passit, rimat e pelat...		It consoles me, it gladdens me, The hope I will go back To eat the Swiss chard pie, The small broad beans during May, On the grass, with sausage, A ham slice, A good bottle (3) of braquet (4)         From Bellet (5)! That I will see again the “berninsòu (6)”, The warblers, the beans, The “bellones (6)” “thirty a penny”! That during January I’ll see a thousand flowers Growing near the cauliflowers... When everywhere else all is frozen, Faded, burned and bared...
		Chorus
		O bèu ciel, o bella Nissa Coura voli etc.		O! beautiful sky, o! fair Nice When I’m flying etc.”
		5th verse
		Soubre lu champ de bataia Vouoli gagnà lu galoun, Reveni embé la medaia Emb’au brout sus lou poumpoun ; Dire à la terra doun sièu nat : Per tu, lou sanc ai versat. Ma l’Italia pou cridà :         « Libertà ! » Pi su la pouorta de maioun Souonà frema, pà, pichoun : « Sièu vengut, sièu ièu, Titoun ! » Mi sembla jà su lou miéu couor De lu serrà, o dous espoir ! Que pousquessi, en lu viei an, Cantà encara ai miéu enfan :		On the battlefields I want to win my stripes, Come back with the medal With the garland on the pompom; Say to the earth where I was born: For you, the blood I’ve shed. But Italy may shout (7):         “Freedom!” Then, in the doorway of the house, Call wife, father, son: “I came back, it’s me, Baptist!” It seems to me already on my heart Press them, o! sweet hope! Shall I, during my old years, Sing again to my children:
		Chorus
		« O bei tem, o bella Nissa Coura voli etc. »		“O! beautiful weather, o! fair Nice When I’m flying etc.”

1. On 1848, the County of Nice was back to Piedmont-Sardinia kingdom.
2. In reality, Austrian soldiers.
3. One tòmou = three litres (0,66 gallon or 0,8 US gallon).
4. A regional type of vine.
5. See also San-Rouman-de-Belet.
6. Berninsòu, or bernissóu, and belouna are regional names of type of fig.
7. The version published in Nice historique gives, for this line: Ma la patria poù cridà (But homeland may shout).
   In 1848, the County of Nice belonged back to kingdom of Piedmont Sardaigne, so it’s not necessary for the soldier to specify the name of his homeland.

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