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Poems |
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LA
PARTENZA R' L'EMIGRANT' |
A
gghiuorn' m' n' part',
nn' sacc' 'ndov' vack',
nu vas' a tutt' rack'
senz'art' a travaglià.
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Madonna,
ramm' aita,
r' me piagliat' cura,
ij' tengh' 'na paura,
ma vita aggia cangià. |
E
tu, cumbagna mia,
rammill' lu curagg',
lu voglij' fa nu sagg'
la via l'aggia tr'và.
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E
mamma, tu raggiona,
e nn' m' fa r'spiett',
tu nn' t' mett' a lliett',
cà bona t'aggia acchià.
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E
vuij' r' lu cuntuorn'
rat'm' lu cunfuort'
si nn' m' coglij' stuort'
nu juorn' aggia t'rnà.
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Pò
n'ata vota uard'
la vecchia mia capanna
e bbesc' 'ndà 'na banna
nu sguard' a s'sp'rà.
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Ma
appena so' 'ncamin'
'mbiett' sent' nu lagn',
r' besc' r' m'ntagn'
v'cin' alluntanà.
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AN EMIGRANT’S SONG OF FAREWELL |
Soon I’ll be leaving
For a destination unknown.
I leave a kiss for everyone.
I’ll work at anything I can find.
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Virgin Mary, help me,
Take care of me,
For I have much fear
But I must start a new life.
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And you, my dear mate,
Give me courage.
I want to give it a try,
For I must find a solution.
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And you, Mother, be reasonable,
And don’t be spiteful by getting sick,
Because I hope to find you in good health when I return.
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And
you folks standing by,
Cheer me on.
If all goes well for me,
Some day I’ll come back.
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Again
I cast a glance
At my old country home,
And in a corner I can see
Eyes of sadness and folks sighing.
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But
as soon as I start out
My heart skips a beat,
For I see my beloved mountains
Fading away.
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Canio
Vallario (B'llin') |
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LA
VECCHIA |
La
vecchia, s'ruta a la chianca,
lu ciel' lu guarda luntan',
lu fus' lu car' ra man'
cchiù stanca s' sent' a campà.
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E
penza a lu tiemp' r' fiur',
chi 'mbiett' p'rtava 'na rosa,
cuntenta s'nnava ca, sposa,
culur' p'trienn' cangià;
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e
quann' 'mp'rtegghia s'ngera,
r' ttrezz' e lu ricc' a la front',
l'amant' asp'ttava chi pront'
la sera p'rtava a bballà.
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Frattant'
lu sol' marina
lu gir' cunchiùr' a la terra,
lu cor' a p' egghia s' serra,
matina nn' po' cchiù t'rnà.
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An
old woman sewing |
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AN OLD WOMAN |
An
old woman seated on a stool
Looks up into the distant sky,
Her spindle drops from her hand.
She is tired of living.
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She recalls her youth in bloom
When to her bosom she pinned a rose,
Dreaming happily that once a bride,
Those colors would change.
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And
when she combed
Her tresses and her curly bangs,
She waited for her lover, who at eventide
Took her out dancing. |
Now
the sun is setting,
And she feels a tightness in her heart,
Morning will not come again.
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Canio
Vallario (B'llin') |
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