Giuseppe Gioachino
Belli
This site is devoted to the vernacular romanesco sonnets of Belli, one of Italy's greatest poets, 50 of the 429 translated by Michael Sullivan.
468
La sscerta
Sta accusì. La padrona cor padrone,
volenno marità la padroncina
je portonno davanti una matina,
pe sscejje, du’ bbravissime perzone.
Un de li dua aveva una ventina
d’anni, e ddu’ spalle peggio de Sanzone;
e ll’antro lo disceveno un riccone,
ma aveva un po’ la testa scennerina.
Subbito er giuvenotto de cuer paro
se fesce avanti a ddí: “Sora Luscìa,
chi vvolete de noi? parlate chiaro”.
“Pe ddilla, me piascete voi e llui,”
rispose la zitella; “e ppijjeria
er ciscio vostro e li quadrini sui.”
535
Una lingua nova
Cuer giammaria che tt’inzurtò a Ttestaccio,
e mmo assercita l’arte de la spia,
passava mercordí dda Pescaria
co ttanto de tortore sott’ar braccio.
Ner travedello, io che nun zo che ssia,
ma nu lo pòzzo sscerne cuer mustaccio,
arzo un zercio da terra, e ppoi jje faccio:
“A la grazzietta padron Giammaria.”
“Chi è?” ddisce svortannose er gabbiano:
e, ppunf, in ne li denti io je rispose
co cquer confetto che ttienevo in mano.
“Nun ve pijjate pena de ste cose,”
dico, “perché cquest’è, ssor paesano,
la lingua de parlà cco le minose.”
l.1 Ttestaccio: Testaccio, also know as Monte de’cocci, the hill of potsherds, downriver of Ponte Supplicio, an ancient Roman midden grown over with grass where the common people of Rome went fuori porta, outside the gates, to picnic, drink, and dance.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Testaccio#/media/File:Testaccio_monte_dei_cocci_051204-12-13.JPG
http://www.romasegreta.it/images/sigplus/pictures/pinelli/baccanali-a-testaccio.jpg
582
Er cimiterio de la Morte
Come tornai da la Madon-dell’-Orto
co cquer pizzicarolo de la scesta,
agnede poi cor mannataro storto
ar Cimiterio suo che cc’è la festa.
Ner guardà cqueli schertri io me sò accorto
d’una gran cosa, e sta gran cosa è cquesta:
che ll’omo vivo come ll’omo morto
ha una testa de morto8 in de la testa.
E ho scuperto accusí cche o bbelli, o bbrutti,
o ppréncipi, o vvassalli, o mmonziggnori,
sta testa che ddich’io sce ll’hanno tutti.
Duncue, ar monno, e li bboni e li cattivi,
li matti, li somari e li dottori
sò stati morti prima d’èsse vivi.
l. 2 mannataro: mandatario, a member of the Confraternity of Death, the crypt of whose church in Via Giulia was decorated with human bones. Belli’s note on the second of these two sonnets: “Everything one sees in that cemetery, both decorations and ornaments, is made out of human remains, taken for that purpose from their hallowed rest”.
http://www.dorli.it/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/DSC_7419.jpg?a631a6
596
La sborgna
Sta piccola cafona, eh Ggiuacchino?
e ste cotte che cqui pporti ar Curato?
Oggi propio pòi dí ccotto sporpato
da li capelli all’uggne der detino.
Nun ce sò gguai: come se trova vino
da èsse fascirmente incanalato,
tu tte sce vòi inummidí er palato
sin che cce n’è una goccia in magazzino.
Bbravo! perché sei omo da particce
co ddu’ cotte pe ggiorno: e cquesto è er modo
de falle mantiené ’ggnisempre gricce.
Cusí una tira l’antra, e tte sce lodo:
che ssempr’è bbene for de le pellicce
de lassà un filo pe ppoi facce er nodo.
602
Un gastigo de la Madonna
A le storielle tue io nun ce storcio:
duncue credi a le mie. Ggiggia e Ggrilletto
s’ereno chiusi a ttanto de scatorcio
pe cquer tal affaruccio che tt’ho ddetto.
E ggià staveno a mmette a lo spilorcio
der marito una penna ar cappelletto,
cuanno a cquer tipp’e ttappe ecchete un zorcio
che scappa da un cusscino accapalletto.
Visto er nimmico suo, subbito er gatto
pijja l’abbriva, s’aggrufa, se corca,
eppoi zompa sur letto ippisifatto.
Centi che ccaso! cuella bbestia porca
nell’ìmpito aggranfiò ttutt’in un tratto
un uscello incastrato in d’una sorca.
619
Le indiggnità
A la su’ porcareccia era curato:
poi venne a Rroma prete a ’no spedale:
poi passò a ddí l’uffizzio a un burborato,
e a spórgeje la notte l’urinale.
Pe cquesto ottenne un ber canonicato
in d’una prima cchiesa patriarcale:
poi salí per impeggni a un vescovato;
e mmó er Papa lo sputa cardinale.
E a ’ggn’impiego de tutta sta sfilata,
chi jj’ha ttienuto l’occhi addosso ha ddetto
che ha mmutato ognisempre camminata.
Prima annava ar galoppo, po’ ar passetto,
po’ a ccianche6 larghe e a vvita sderenata;
e mmó ppare che bballi er minuetto.
Title Le indiggnità: often enough Belli’s speakers of romanesco use the negative prefix in as an augmentative, resulting as here and in the cases of indigestione, immorale, in the apparent opposite of what they intended.
724
Er ciurlo
Sbozza pissciona, che cco cquer scuffiotto
me pari un mostacciolo de Subbiaco,
cosa te vai sciarlanno co Cciriàco
ch’io stammatina sò ccotto e stracotto?
Pe un po’ de bbrillo e ttrillo e dd’allegrotto
te la potría passà, mma nnò ubbriaco.
Senti l’erre: io de té mme ne stracaco,
e strafrego, e strabbuggero, e strafotto.
Vòi ’n’antra prova tu cche nnun è vvero
ch’io sii sporpato? io sciò la provatura
d’un bon cavicchio da slargatte er zero.
Nò, nnò, ciumàca, nun avé ppavura:
pe tté ppuro un’armata è un monistero.
La tu’ schifenzaría te fa ssicura.
l. 2 mostacciolo de Subbiaco: a sugar-coated biscuit of Subiaco.
730
La vittura auffa
Panza ha scannato Meo, ma ssur lommetto
ccià ttre bbusci lui puro, e jje va mmale;
e ttrattanto ha ordinato er tribbunale
stii pe ssicure carcere in der letto.
Io lo vedde passà pp’er Cavalletto
cuanno lo straportonno a lo spedale.
Era in ne la bbarella tal’e cquale
c’un morto steso drento ar cataletto.
Titta crese c’annassi troppo forte,
e cquer tritticamento de bbudella
te je potessi accaggionà la morte.
Nun me vienghi a pparlà llui de bbarella
a mmé cche cce sò ito tante vorte:
sce se va mmejjo assai ch’in carrettella.
741
Lui!
Io e ll’asino mio! In oggni cosa
ve sce ficcate voi pe Ccacco immezzo.
In ogni freggna sce mettete un pezzo
der vostro, e jj’appricate la scimosa.
Ma, ffratèr caro! e ssete stato avvezzo
co sto po’ dd’arbaggía prosuntüosa?
Tutto sapete voi! ggnente ha la dosa,
si pprima voi nun je mettete er prezzo!
“Io vado, Io viengo, Io dico, Io credo, Io vojjo:
l’ho ffatt’Io, l’ho vvist’Io, sce sò annat’Io...”
pe ttutto sc’entra l’Io der zor Imbrojjo.
Chi ssete Voi? la tromma der Balío,
er Papa, Marc’Urelio in Campidojjo,
la Santa Tirnità, Ddomminiddio?!
l. 2 Ccacco: There is considerable debate about the origin of the name. One suggestion is that excavation of the temple of Isis and Serapis brought to light a head of the Egyptian baboon god Thoth, taken to represent a macaque, hence cacco. It must have been left for many years blocking the present street of San Stefano del Cacco and became proverbial.
l. 12 la tromba del Balío: the trumpet of the Balí, a high officer in chivalric orders and the magistracy.
468
The choice
It were like this. Missus an’ the old man,
were wantin’ to see young miss get wed,
an’ so on one fine mornin’ in they led,
for ’er to pick of, these two fine persons.
One was near twenty, yer’d ’ave said,
wide in the shoulder, wider ’un Samson;
an’ t’other ’e was known for a rich ’un,
but with a grizzle o’ grey in ’is ’ead.
Right off don’t the younger on the twain
step straight up an’ say: “Miss Suzy,
which will you ’ave? Speak out plain”.
“Well, to speak out, yer both ’ud suit,”
replies the maid, “an’ were I choosy
I’d go for your knob, but with ’is loot.”
535
A new tongue
Yon John Joe, hoo mocked you at the ceilidh,
an’ hoo now makes money as police spy,
Wednesday, in the market, he’s passin’ by
an’ under his arm he’s this shillelagh.
Seein’ him there, well, I just can’t say why,
but that face of his makes me feel quarely,
I grabs this brick an’ calls out all gaily:
“Sor, Squire! John Joe, as I hopes to die”.
“’Hoo that?” And turns him round, does the eejit.
An’ right in his teeth, wallop, in I pitch
with that chunk of toffee in me mitt.
“Don’t be scratchin’ there,” I says, “let it itch.
For it’s just the lingo, you snoopin’ git,
we’ve learned for conversin’ with a snitch.”
582
The chapel o’ bones 1
Well, soon after yon ’Alloween began
Ah went wi the grocer an’ Sullivan - dull
but o’ gristly an’ awful, ’e’s a fan -
this boneyard ov ’is to get an eyeful.
When Ah seed them skellies me thinkin’ ran
on a great idea, an’ it ain’t no bull:
wot yer livin’ person an’ yer dead man
inside their ’eads they ’as got this ’ere skull.
An’ so Ah found wot the short an’ the tall,
princes, proletarians, an’ parsons
this death’s ’ead they’ve got it, one an’ all.
So on earth the saintly an’ the spivin’,
yer loonies, yer dumb donkeys an’ yer dons,
was dead afore they was ever livin’.
596
The razzle
Gettin’ a tad bladdered, eh Ishmael?
drainin’ a speck ’o ’enbane to the brain?
Today yer can say y’er dunked as a Dane
fro’ yer thatch to yer little finger nail.
Ah’ve nowt agin it: when yer finds an ale
wot can be tippled down the red lane,
yer wets yer whistle the same an’ again
till there’s never a drop left in the pail.
Ah’d back us, y’er not the jack’s like to cack
on two piss-ups a day: an’ yon’s the lotion
to mak sure yer don’t go losin’ the knack.
No bird flew on one wing, my benison,
but wiser to leave a bit o’ slack
in the main brace, so as to tie one on.
602
The ’Oly Mother of a penance
At yower little tales yer never ’eard me grouse
so now yer to listen to mine. Lou an’ Ted
they licklocks themsells away in the ’ouse,
‘cos of that bit o’ business what Ah said.
An’ they was already givin’ that mean louse
of an ’usband of ’ers ’orns on ’is ’ead
when bumpety-bumpety-bump this mouse
nips from a piller at top o’ the bed.
Well, sightin’ ’is prey, straightaway the cat
crouches down, bristles all up, an’ then, slam,
one leap an’ it’s on the bed, just like that.
Yer should’ear the din! That swine of a tom
’as both its claws ’ooked wi a single swat
on a python stuck in the bearded clam.
619
Rank
In his home pigsty t’were a curacy:
den to Rome, padre in a hospital:
Den wid a dean, to read de brevary
an’ hand him de pisspot at due interval.
Dat’s how he merited a canonry
in a front-rank church, a patriarchal:
den, doin’ favours, up to prebendary:
an’ now de Pope purples him cardinal.
An’ wid evry post in dis career guide,
dose who kept an eye on him let know,
every single time he changed his stride.
Foist he galloped, den at a walk he’d go,
den wid legs spread an’ fat hips waddlin’ wide
an’ now it seems he’s dancin’ on tiptoe.
724
The drunk
Thou ’alfling, tha looks like dressed crab, tha doth,
wearin’ yon frilly silly pink tifter,
why ’as tha bin lettin’ on to Arthur
wot this morn Ah’m legolas, skunk as a Goth?
Bit ’igh, a bit merry, abrim wi froth
that Ah might leggo, but not drunk, never.
Heed the tee haitch, cun’t give a pith fer yer,
cun’t give a tinker’s cuth, cun’t give a toth
An’ tha wants more proof fer believin’
wot Ah’s not stinko, to let in some light
Ah’s a gimlet wot’ll widen yer ring,
Nay, nay, me little shelob, don’t get fright:
to thee, “We’re all gays”, the S.A.S.’d sing.
Thy orcishness will keep tha safe o’ night.
l. 1 ’alfling: the North Yorkshire speaker has recently read Lord of the rings. The alleged difficulty for a drunk of pronouncing th has its Italian equivalent in the r of ll. 7-8
730
The free ride
Tubby’s ripped Tom apart, but ’e coughin’
’issel, three ’oles in the back, not funny;
an’ now the beak sayin’ ’e mun’t go free,
’e’s kept in bed, wiv rozzers guardin’.
Ah were just leavin’ the old “Godolphin”
when ’e was carted off to A an’ E.
There on the stretcher, wiv that look yer see
on a dead corpse laid art in a coffin.
Ann says they was goin’ way, way too fast,
an’ that jouncin’ ’is guts, yer can betcha
it certain wasn’t goin’ to ’elp ’im last.
’E best not come tell me abart stretchers,
me, wot’s ridden an ’ole fleet in the past:
they’re comfier than the ’earse ’ull fetch yer.
741
’Im!
I an’ me Eeyore! In all fings, efry,
yer blocks ve middle like ve Monument.
In evry cuntin’ thing yer puts two cents
o’ yer own, an’ do ve imbroidery.
But, squire! yoo ’ad it fro’ birf vis bent
fer vis ’ere up-yer-arse vindbaggery?
Ye knows ve lot! Nuffin’s as it should be
if afore yer ’ain’t told us vot is meant!
“Ah finks, Ah says, Ah vants, Ah go, Ah come:
Ah done it, Ah bin vere, viv me own eye…”
Evry time ve Ah ov Ayatollem.
’Oo are yer? Ve mouthpiece ov Iam Paisley,
ve Queeen, Lord Nelson atop ’is column,
ve Blessit Trinity, Lud God on ’igh?!
757
The sacrifice of Abraham 1
The Bible, wot is this kind of ’istory,
says, ’twixt Noah’s an’ the Covenant ark
Abram wanted, as a good Patriarch,
an ’ollowghost for God on Mount Mory.
’E took a donkey of a talked-up mark,
wot – at its ease an’ wivvart vainglory –
was croppin’ the clover an’ chicory
in front of ’is house, ’appy as a lark.
’E calls Isaac: “Make thee a cord o’ wood,
get the axe, load the ass all it’s fit fer,
shout up the farm’and, get into yer duds,
kiss off yer mummy, go fetch me titfer,
an’ away we’ll be gone, ’cos God the Good
wants a burnt offrin’ yer’ll get the drift of ”.
757
Er zagrifizzio d’Abbramo 1
La Bbibbia, ch’è una spesce d’un’istoria,
disce che ttra la prima e siconn’arca
Abbramo vorze fà dda bbon Patriarca
n’ojjocaustico a Ddio sur Montemoria.
Pijjò dduncue un zomaro de la Marca,
che ssenza comprimenti e ssenza bboria
stava a ppassce er trifojjo e la scicoria
davanti a ccasa sua come un Monarca.
Poi chiamò Isacco, e ddisse: “Fa’ un fasscetto,
pijja er marraccio, carca er zomarello,
chiama er garzone, infílete er corpetto,
saluta Mamma, scercheme er cappello;
e annamo via, perché Ddio bbenedetto
vò un zagrifizzio che nnun pòi sapello”.
l. 5 zomaro de la Marca: the asses from the Marche region were reputed excellent.