I love you
and I loved you
not because you're beautiful
but because you're a rib from my side.
And destiny,
who loves a laugh,
gave you to another.
If I'll meet you in the next world,
I'll give you the ring
for infinity.

Mario Tobino (my translation)

Ti amo
e ti ho amata
non perché sei bella
ma perché sei una costa del mio costato.
Il destino,
che ha voglia di ridere,
ti ha dato a un altro.
Se ti incontrerò nell'altro mondo
ti darò l'anello
per l'infinito.

​Mario Tobino

Look for me in the words
that I didn't find

Blaga Dimitrova

Cercami nelle parole
che non ho trovato

​Blaga Dimitrova

​The White Rose (from Fires in November) by Attilio Bertolucci
(translated by Alberico Collina)

I will pick for you
the last rose in the garden,
the white rose that blooms
amid the first mists.
The greedy bees have visited it
until yesterday,
but it’s still so sweet
it makes one quiver.
It’s a portrait of you at thirty,
faintly forgetful, as you will be then.


La rosa bianca (da Fuochi in novembre) di Attilio Bertolucci

Coglierò per te
l'ultima rosa del giardino,
la rosa bianca che fiorisce
nelle prime nebbie.
Le avide api l'hanno visitata
sino a ieri,
ma è ancora così dolce
che fa tremare.
E' un ritratto di te a trent'anni,
un po' smemorata, come tu sarai allora.

During World War II, members of the Rom and Sinti populations were rounded up by the Nazis, who sent them to concentration camps. It is estimated that five hundred thousand of them were killed by Nazi Germany and her allies. Karl Stojka wrote this to remind the world that the Rom and Sinti populations are as invincible as flowers.


“We Roma and Sinti are the flowers of this earth.
You can crush us,
you can tear us out of the earth, you can gas us,
you can burn us,
you can kill us -
but like flowers we keep coming back ...”

Karl Stojka, Auschwitz survivor number Z-5742


“Wir Roma und Sinti sind die Blumen dieser Erde.
Man kann uns zertreten,
man kann uns aus der Erde reißen, man kann uns vergasen,
man kann uns verbrennen,
man kann uns erschlagen –
aber wie die Blumen kommen wir immer wieder...”

Karl Stojka, Auschwitz survivor number Z-5742


Alberico Collina

 Antonio De Curtis - The Clown’s Prayer from The Funniest Show on Earth
(translated by Alberico Collina)
 
"We thank you our benevolent Protector for giving us today the strength to do the most beautiful show in the world.
You who protect men, animals, and sideshows, you who make lions as docile as men and men as brave as lions, you who lend angels' wings to the acrobats every evening, help us to never go a day without applause and bread on our table.
We ask you for protection, but if we be not worthy, if some misfortune were to happen to us, let it happen after the show and, in any case, remember to save the animals and children first.
You who allow the dwarves and the giants to be equally happy, you who are the real, the only safety net of our dangerous acts, help us to never go without a tent, a stage, and a spotlight.
Protect us from the nails of our women, because we can protect ourselves from those of the tigers, still give us the strength to make men laugh, to bear serenely their deafening laughter and also let them believe us happy.
The more I feel like crying, the more men enjoy themselves, but it doesn't matter, I forgive them, partly because they don't know, partly for your sake, and partly because they paid for the ticket.
If my antics serve to alleviate their pains, make this face even more ridiculous, but help me to carry it around with ease.
There are so many people who enjoy making people cry, we must suffer to amuse them; send, if you can, someone to this world who can make me laugh the same way I make others laugh."
 
Antonio De Curtis - Preghiera del clown dal film: "Il più comico spettacolo del mondo"
 
"Noi ti ringraziamo nostro buon Protettore per averci dato anche oggi la forza di fare il più bello spettacolo del mondo.
Tu che proteggi uomini, animali e baracconi, tu che rendi i leoni docili come gli uomini e gli uomini coraggiosi come i leoni, tu che ogni sera presti agli acrobati le ali degli angeli, fa' che sulla nostra mensa non venga mai a mancare pane ed applausi.
Noi ti chiediamo protezione, ma se non ne fossimo degni, se qualche disgrazia dovesse accaderci, fa che avvenga dopo lo spettacolo e, in ogni caso, ricordati di salvare prima le bestie e i bambini.
Tu che permetti ai nani e ai giganti di essere ugualmente felici, tu che sei la vera, l'unica rete dei nostri pericolosi esercizi, fa' che in nessun momento della nostra vita venga a mancarci una tenda, una pista e un riflettore.
Guardaci dalle unghie delle nostre donne, ché da quelle delle tigri ci guardiamo noi, dacci ancora la forza di far ridere gli uomini, di sopportare serenamente le loro assordanti risate e lascia pure che essi ci credano felici.
Più ho voglia di piangere e più gli uomini si divertono, ma non importa, io li perdono, un po’ perché essi non sanno, un po’ per amor Tuo, e un po’ perché hanno pagato il biglietto.
Se le mie buffonate servono ad alleviare le loro pene, rendi pure questa mia faccia ancora più ridicola, ma aiutami a portarla in giro con disinvoltura.
C'è tanta gente che si diverte a far piangere l'umanità, noi dobbiamo soffrire per divertirla; manda, se puoi, qualcuno su questo mondo capace di far ridere me come io faccio ridere gli altri."

Sayings about poverty usually reveal much about the countries that adopt them. And Italian sayings are no exception. I recently came across a wonderful website (www.frasicelebri.it), where I found these gems (my translation):

On family and poverty:
The rich find relatives even among strangers; the poor find strangers even among relatives.
“Il ricco trova parenti anche fra gli sconosciuti; il povero trova sconosciuti anche fra i parenti.”

On wants and poverty:
The poor are not those who have little, but those who desire much.
“Non è povero chi ha poco, ma chi molto desidera.” 

On Winter and poverty:
Winter is hell to the poor.
“L'inverno è l'inferno dei poveri.” 

On hope and poverty:
Hope is the wealth of the poor.
“La speranza è la ricchezza dei poveri.” 


Alberico Collina

​A few days after having taken possession of a sumptuous villa, Ernst Kazirra, while making his way home, caught sight of a man in the distance, who was coming out of a tradesman’s door in the garden wall, carrying a crate on his shoulders and loading it onto a truck.

No sooner had he caught up with him, that the man had driven off. So, he followed him in his car. And the truck travelled far, till it reached the town’s suburbs, where it stopped on the edge of a ravine. Kazirra climbed out of the car and went to take a look. The stranger unloaded the crate from the truck and, after taking a few steps, threw it into the gorge, which was cluttered with thousands and thousands of similar crates.

He approached the man and asked him, ‘I saw you getting off my land with that crate. What was inside it? And what’s with all these crates?’

The man looked at him and smiled, ‘I’ve got more of ‘em on the truck that I’ve got to get rid of. Don’t you know? They’re days.’

‘What days?’

‘Your days.’

‘My days?’

‘Your lost days. The days that you lost. You were waiting for them, weren’t you? They’ve arrived. What did you do with them? Look at them, pristine, still bloated. And now…’

Kazirra took a look. The crates formed a huge pile. He climbed down the side of the ravine and opened one of them.

Inside it, was a road in fall, and at the far end, Graziella, his girlfriend, leaving him forever. And he didn’t even call after her. He opened a second one. Here, he found a hospital room, and, on a bed, his brother, Giosuè, who was ill and was waiting for him. But he was away on business. He opened a third one. At the little gate of the old, wretched house, he found Duk, his loyal mastiff, who had been waiting for him for two years, and was now reduced to skin and bones. And the thought of going back there never crossed his mind. He began feeling something here, at the pit of his stomach. The workman stood upright on the edge of the gorge, as still as an executioner.

‘Sir!’, shouted Kazirra, ‘Listen to me. Let me take away at least these three days. I beg you. At least these three. I’m rich. I’ll give you all you want.’

The workman made a gesture with his right hand, as if to indicate a point that was out of reach, as if to say that it was too late and that no remedy was possible any more. Then he vanished into thin air and, straight after, the gigantic mound of mysterious crates also disappeared. And night’s shadow fell.

(my translation of the Italian original in D. Buzzati, 180 racconti, Mondadori, Milano 1982)

I love this description of a solar eclipse from ‘In the Name of the Mother’ by Erri De Luca:
 
‘I also like it when the Moon travels across the face of the Sun and switches it off in broad daylight. A crushing silence falls upon the Earth, and even the ants stay still. In that moment, no one steals, no one kills, no one dies. For one minute, the world has to behave, to keep its voice down.’ (my translation)
 
 
Alberico Collina

In the original Italian:
‘Mi piace pure quando la luna passa in faccia al sole e lo spegne in pieno giorno. In terra si fa una pace schiacciante, si fermano pure le formiche. In quel momento, nessuno ruba, nessuno ammazza, nessuno muore. Per un minuto il mondo è costretto a comportarsi bene, parlare a bassa voce.’ 
da 'In nome della madre' di Erri De Luca

'In summer, the stars fell like crumbs, catching fire in flight and fizzling out in the meadows. On these occasions, he would go to those that had landed nearby, and he would lick them. The king tasted the salt of the stars.'
from 'The Weight of the Butterfly' by Erri De Luca (my translation)

The next time I see a falling star, I may forget to make a wish, but I'll remember its taste.

Alberico Collina
​
'D'estate le stelle cadevano a briciole, ardevano in volo spegnendosi sui prati. Allora andava da quelle cadute vicino, a leccarle. Il re assaggiava il sale delle stelle.'
da 'Il peso della farfalla' di Erri De Luca