Taking up the challenge of fledermaus' translation of a German poem, this is a [fairly] accurate translation of the lyrics of one of my favourite Danish folksongs.

Original lyrics by Sigfred Pedersen, thie website:  http://www.poulthorsen.dk/slippers.htm
will give anyone curious enough to want to look at it the original text and a translation to Italian ..... 

Hope this comes out OK .... some of the line spacing is a bit tight!!

The Travelling Tinker's Spring Song

Nu lokker atter de lange veje                   Now once again country roads are calling
og jeg har flikket de gamle sko.               And my old boots are full of holes
Og jeg har skåret en grøn skalmeje          And I have carved a secret green symbol
bag Piledammen ved Holstebro.                Behind a roadsign at Holstebro
Jeg går fra Skagen med kurs mod Fakse   I leave from Skagen, and head for Fakse
og glemt er vinterens sult og nød.             Forgotten now winter's hungry days
Jeg sliber knive jeg sliber sakse            I'll sharpen knives or I'll edge your scissors
jeg sliber solskin og dagligt brød.             I'll polish sunshine to pay my way

Hvor er min ungdom? Jeg ved det næppe. Where did my youth go? I can't recall it
Hvor var den skøn. Jeg var fri og løs.        But it was glorious, each day that passed
Jeg sov i vejgrøftens blomstertæppe,        I slept in flowerbeds along the roadside
jeg sov hos landsbyens bedste tøs.           Or in the arms of a pretty lass                
Med hende var det en fryd at bakse          With her it was my delight to dally
thi vårens duft var i hendes skød.             The scent of Spring in her lap it lay
Jeg sleb kun knive jeg sleb kun sakse,      I only sharpened her knives and scissors
men sleb dog solskin og dagligt brød.       But I got sunshine, and paid my way

Jeg var jo bare en skør skærslipper         For I was only a crazy tinker
foruden hjem og foruden ro.                   Without a home or a resting place
Jeg var kun rakker og hundeklipper,        A petty thief, or a puppystealer
og bonden stænged for mig sin lo.         And farmers slammed their gate in my face
Han var så selvsikker, thi hans akse        So self-important, they knew their roots
var plantet støt i en stort fad grød.          Were planted in rich and fertile earth
Jeg sleb kun knive, jeg sleb kun sakse,I sharpened knives and I sharpened scissors
men sleb dog solskin og dagligt brød.       I polished sunshine and knew my worth

Dengang var brændevin hvermands eje,   At that time, poteen belonged to all men
thi den var billig og den var ram.             'Twas cheap and cheerful, and bitter,too!
Men malurt dufted' langs alle veje            The plants to spice it grew at the roadside
og gav kulør til en fuseldram.                  They gave some colour to every brew
Åh soldebrødre, åh lurifakse,                 Oh, drinking brothers, Oh late night singers
I drak jer tumbet fra vid og sans,            You drank yourselves to an early grave
men jeg sleb knive og jeg sleb sakse       But I kept sharpening knives and scissors
og plukked malurt omkring Sankthans.    And picked absinthe on Midsummer's Day

Den, der har pligter kan sagtens dømmeThose who work daily will always judge me
en pjalt, som ikke betaler skat.              A roving tinker who travels light
Men jeg er digter og jeg må drømme,     But I'm a poet, and I'm a dreamer
thi jeg er et med den lyse nat.               And I'm a part of the summer nights
De digtere er så mange slagse,             There are so many much better poets
og selv blandt dem er jeg kun en fant,   Compared with them, I'm not worth a thing
der sliber knive og sliber sakes              But I can sharpen their knives and scissors
og takker rørt for en kobberslant.          And thank them kindly to let me sing

Hvor er I nu, alle I jeg kendte,              Where are you now all those whom I knew
hver buttet pige hver kammesjuk?         Each pretty girl, every alehouse mug?
Hveranden af jer på Sundholm endte,    Half of you ended in Institutions
hveranden kvaltes i flaskens kluk.         The rest died, drowned by the bottle's glug
Men jeg er stadig iblandt de vakse!        But I am still hale and fresh and hearty!
Mit hår er hvidt, men min tud er rød!     My  hair's turned white, and my nose is red!
Jeg sliber knive, jeg sliber sakse,          While I still sharpen my knives and scissors
jeg sliber solskin og dagligt brød.           And polish sunshine to earn my bread

Og endnu venter de lange veje               And now the long roads are ever calling
med morgenkulde, med middagsglød.     Cold in the mornings, midday so hot
Min slibesten kan jeg fortsat dreje          And I still easily turn my grindstone
og holde næsen forsvarlig rød.               And keep my nose red, deep in a pot
Jeg går fra Skagen med kurs mod Fakse, I leave from Skagen, and head for Fakse
og glemt er vinterens sult og nød.           Forgotten now winter's hungry days
Jeg sliber knive, jeg sliber sakse,          I'll sharpen knives or I'll edge your scissors
jeg sliber solskin og dagligt brød.            I'll polish sunshine to pay my way