Virtual Rome - Language and Poetry - "The Discovery Of America" by C.Pascarella

	CESARE PASCARELLA LA SCOPERTA DE L'AMERICA (THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA) page 3	other pages: page 1 . . . I - V page 2 . . . VI - X page 4 . . . XVI - XX page 5 . . . XXI - XXV> page 6 . . . XXVI - XXX page 7 . . . XXXI - XXXV page 8 . . . XXXVI - XL page 9 . . . XLI - XLV page 10 . . XLVI - L

XI	XII	XIII	XIV	XV

XI
E lì defatti, come se trovorno
Assieme, lui je fece: -Sa?, mi pare
Che, dice, è mejo a dì le cose chiare:
Tanti galli a cantà 'n se fa mai giorno.

Ce vado, ce ripasso, ce ritorno,
Je dico: dunque, be' de quell'affare?
Quale? dice, quer gran viaggio di mare?
Potrebbe ripassare un antro giorno?

Ma che crede che ce n'ho fatti pochi
De 'sti viaggi? Percui, dico, che famo?
Dico, sacra maestà, famo li giochi?

Dunque lo dica pure a suo marito,
Si me ce vò mannà che combinamo,
Si no vado a provà in quarch'antro sito.

XI
And there, as soon as they came together,
He told her: - You know? It seems to me
That it would be better to speak frankly:
Too many people will never reach an agreement. [1]

I go there, I try again, I go back once more,
I ask them: so, what's the news about that business?
Which one? they reply, that great voyage by sea?
Could you come back again some other day?

Do you think I have never been through
Similar voyages before? So, what's all this?
I mean, Your Majesty, are we playing games?

Therefore, you can tell your husband
That, if he wants me to go, we must find an agreement,
Otherwise I'll go and ask somewhere else.

[1] · Literally "with many roosters, the day will never break",
a proverb whose meaning is "when too many people are held
responsible for something, an agreement will never be reached".

XII
Ché qui fra re, ministri, baricelli,
Sapienti... dice, è inutile a parlanne,
Percui, sa, me ridia li giocarelli,
Che fo tela! - Ma me scusi le domanne,

Fece lei, lei che vò - Tre navicelli.
- E ognuno, putacaso, quanto granne?
- Eh, fece lui, sur genere de quelli
Che porteno er marsala a Ripa granne.

- Va bene, fece lei, vi sia concesso. -
Capischi si com'è? Je venne bene,
Che je li fece dà quer giorno stesso.

E lui, sortito appena da Palazzo,
Prese l'omini, sciorse le catene,
E agnede in arto mare com'un razzo.

XII
With all these kings, ministers, commanders,
Wise men... he said, it's simply useless,
So, please give me back my stuff,
And I'll go packing! - Pardon my question,

She said, what would you ask? - Three ships.
- And each of them, say, how big?
- Oh, he said, more or less like the ones
That carry wine to Rome [1].

- All right, she said, you may have them. -
See how lucky he was?
He was given them on the same day.

So as soon as he had left the Palace,
He gathered his men, he slipped the chains,
And he flew to sea like a shot.

[1] · Literally "That carry Marsala wine to Ripa Grande".
Ripa Grande ("main bank") was Rome's large commercial
port along the river Tiber, located by Porta Portese, opposite
the Aventine hill; a smaller port, called Ripetta, was located
further up the course of the river, on the opposite bank.

XIII
Passa un giorno... due... tre... 'na settimana...
Passa un mese che già staveno a mollo...
Guarda... riguarda... Hai voja a slungà er collo,
L'America era sempre più lontana.

E 'gni tanto veniva 'na buriana:
Lampi, furmini, giù a rotta de collo,
Da dì: qui se va tutti a scapicollo.
E dopo? Dopo 'na giornata sana

De tempesta, schiariva a poco a poco,
L'aria scottava che pareva un forno,
A respirà se respirava er foco,

E come che riarzaveno la testa,
Quelli, avanti! Passava un antro giorno,
Patapùnfete! giù, n'antra tempesta.

XIII
One day passed... two days... three days... one week...
One month had passed since they were afloat....
Look... Keep looking... No use stretching their necks,
America was further and further away.

And occasionally they had to face a storm:
Lightning, thunderbolts, with all their might,
Which would make you think of facing a bad end.
And then? After a whole day

Of storm, the sky would slowly clear,
The air would grow as hot as an oven,
And what they breathed was fire.

And as soon as they managed to raise their heads,
They kept going! And on the following day
Crash! There goes another storm again.

XIV
E l'hai da sentì dì da chi c'è stato
Si ched'è la tempesta! So' momenti
Che, caro amico, quanno che li senti,
Rimani a bocca aperta senza fiato.

Ché lì, quanno che er mare s'è infuriato,
Tramezzo a la battaja de li venti,
Si lui te pò agguantà li bastimenti
Te li spacca accusì, com'un granato.

Eh!, cor mare ce s'ha da rugà poco...
Già, poi, dico, non serve a dubitallo,
Ma l'acqua è peggio, assai peggio der foco.

Perché cor foco tu, si te ce sforzi
Co' le pompe, ce 'rivi tu a smorzallo;
Ma l'acqua, dimme un po', co' che la smorzi?

XIV
And you should ask who has experienced
A storm what it is like! Those are situations
That when you face them, my friend,
You remain dumbfounded and breathless.

Because when the sea is raging,
Amidst the battle of winds,
Should vessels get caught
They would be split in two like a pomegranate.

Ah! You can't argue much with seas...
Of course, there's no doubt about it,
Water is worse, much worse than fire.

Because, if you make an effort,
You can still put out fire with a pump;
But, tell me, what could ever put out water?

XV
Eppure er mare... er mare, quann'è bello,
Che vedi quel'azzurro der turchino,
Che te ce sdraji longo lì vicino,
Te s'apre er core come 'no sportello.

Che dilizia! Sentì quer ventarello
Salato, quer freschetto fino fino
Dell'onne, che le move er ponentino,
Che pare stieno a fà nisconnarello!

Eppure... sotto a tutto quer celeste,
Ma, dico, dimme un po', chi lo direbbe
Che ce cóveno sotto le tempeste?

Cusì uno, finché non ce s'avvezza,
Che te credi che lui ce penserebbe
Si fino a dove arriva la grannezza?

XV
Nevertheless... when the sea is fine,
And you see shades of colour amidst the deep blue,
And you lay down nearby,
Your heart would open like a door.

How beautiful! To feel that salty breeze,
That fresh sensation of waves,
Blown by the slight wind [1],
That seem to play hide and seek.

Despite that... down below all that blue,
Tell me, who could ever imagine
That tempests are conceiled?

So, until one becomes confident with seas,
Do you think it would be conceivable
To imagine how far their boundaries may reach?

[1] · Literally "moved by the ponentino".
Romans call ponentino ("western breeze") a slight wind that
blows from the sea towards the city in the late afternoon hours.