Devo confessarvelo: Di Giacomo è il mio preferito poeta, in qualsiasi lingua, in tutta il mondo. Le sue parole mi commuovono ogni volta che le leggo.
I must confess to you: Di Giacomo is my favorite poet, in any language, in all the world. His words move me every time I read them.
| A CAPEMONTE di Salvatore di Giacomo Sotto a chist’arbere viecchie abballaveno ’e cape femmene, cient’anne fa, quanno s’ausevano ventaglie ’avorio, polvera ’e cipria e falbalà. Ce se metteveno viuline e flàvute pe l’aria tennera a suspirà, e zenniaveno ll’uocchie d’ ’e ffemmene, chine ’e malizia, da ccà e da llà... Ma si chest’èbbreca turnà nun pò, nun allarmammece, pe carità! ’E cape femmene ce stanno mo, cchiù cape femmene de chelli llà!... Da mmiez’ a st’arbere sti statue ’e marmolo vonno, affacciannese, sentì cantà, vonno sta museca passere e miérole, scetate, sèntere, pe s’ ’a mparà. Dice sta museca, ncopp’ a nu vàlzere: “Figlió, spassateve ca tiempo nn’è! Si ’e core ’e ll’uommene sentite sbattere, cunzideratele, sentite a me! L’anne ca passano chi pò acchiappà? Chi pò trattènere la giuventù? Si se licenzia, nun c’è che fa’, nun torna a nascere, nun vene cchiù!” E si risponnere, luntana e debule, mo n’ata museca ve pararrà, allicurdateve de chelli ffemmene ca nce abballaveno cient’anne fa. Vèneno a sèntere st’ombre ca passano comme se spassano di gente ’e mo: e si suspirano vo’ di’ ca’ penzano ca ’o tiempo giovene turnà nun pò... Figlió, spassateve, c’avimma fa’? nun torna a nascere la gioventù!... Mme pare ’e sèntere murmulià ll’eco nfra st’arbere: “Nun torna cchiù!...” (Da “Voce Luntane”) |
A CAPODIMONTE by Salvatore di Giacomo Under these old trees were dancing the most beautiful women, a hundred years ago when they were still using ivory fans, powder puffs, and flounces. Violins and flutes were sighing in the soft air, and the women’s eyes were twinkling, full of malice, here and there ... But this time cannot return, let’s not alarm ourselves, please! Today there are beautiful women, more beautiful than those there! ... In the midst of the trees, these marble statues looking out, want to hear them singing, want the sparrows and blackbirds to awake, to hear, to learn from it. The music says, in the form of a waltz: "Daughters, frolic, it's time! If you feel beating strongly the hearts of men, pay attention to it, listen to me! The years that pass, who can seize them? Who can restrain youth? If it leaves, there is no remedy, never to be born again, never again!" And if now, another music, distant and weak, should seem to respond, forget about those women dancing a hundred years ago. They come to hear these shadows that pass as if the people of today are having a good time: and if they sigh, it means that they are thinking that time of youth cannot return ... Daughters, frolic, what else can we do? Youth does not return to be born again! ... I can almost hear murmuring the echo through the trees: "Do not come back! ... " (From Voce Luntane) |
English translation © Leonardo Ciampa
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| Parco di Capodimonte, Napoli. (Foto: Wikipedia) |
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