FROM BRINDISINIAN TO ENGLISH A super passive translation
Lucia Morciano
Wordsmith, or English to Italian literary & audiovisual Translator, Proofreader, Reviewer, Content & Creative Writer.
To celebrate this year’s International Mother Language Day, I won’t write an article about languages, linguistics, etymology or anything to do with our industry. Instead, I’d love to share with you something at the very core of our work. A translation.
Not the choices, the rules, the timings, the processes and procedures behind it. But the actual translation.
From my real mother language (Brindisinian) to my step mother language (English).
Please, let me share with you a pizzica ballad I originally wrote in Italian – title, Di Mmari – and which I later translated into English – title, Marine Me.
DI MMARI
Osci ca è cautu e vientu di sciroccu
Sapi cce mari calmu ca nci ?tai
Ma mo’ mi nd’aggia sci’, ci no mi corcu
A mmari mia, m’era sce jaticari.
?
Setti tra mari fiacchi e terramoti,
Capu di ciervu vecchiu, capu to?ta,
Capu latinu, calabbru e borboni,
A riva quarchetunu sempri spetta.
?
Pi nnui lu mari è Ddiu e è cristianu
Potenza, forza, spiritu e puru cori,
Lu mari è traditori, lu sapimu,
E t’innammora cu la sola ‘ddori.
?
A vvoti s’è pigghiatu e a vvoti è datu
Di ma?tri senza tiempu cunti è fattu,
è comu ‘ntralla panza, liquitu e vientu
E a ogni terza ora t’ha’ ?ta’ttientu.
?
Lu mari ca ti ?cuma o ca ti scondi,
ca è giallu e verdi e calmu o blui e cu l’ondi.
?
A certi prima tava la fatìa,
purtaunu beddi biondi americani,
ma poi lu Statu è chiusu la putea
e no’ fumammu cchiui l’originali.
?
Li zumpi ca ddu mari nd’è vagnatu
La quattru, la focaccia e la cartella
e pantaloni azati alla zuava,
a aprili certi bagni senza capu
ci no sicuru t’erunu ?cumatu.
?
Nomi non ndi facimu e né cognomi
Di ci’ tilli colonni no’ si stacca,
Artisti, latitanti e Monsignori
In pedalò o cu lla motobarca.
?
Ti sbirri, chiesa o loschi prucissioni
Cu ll’acqua la coscienza no’ si sbianca,
c’a mmari non ci pienzi alli questioni
che cagnu, puru qui?tu moi nci manca.
?
Lu mari ca ti ?cuma o ca ti scondi,
ca è giallu e verdi e calmu o blui e cu ll’ondi.
?
?
Chiutu li uecchi e vau in malinconia
Da ‘ddori di scugliera e tiratufuli
E non c’è capitali, né fatia
Ca poti cementa’ la sabbia mia.
?
Ci ha’ natu a mmari, sai, lu tua è diversu
Ttaccati addu viddìcu cu nna corda,
vacanti ca ti lassa ‘ntralla panza
e ca ogni pont’a mmari a casa porta.
?
Lu mari ca ti ?cuma o ca ti scondi,
ca è giallu e verdi e calmu o blui e cu ll’ondi.
?
领英推荐
MARINE ME
Today’s so sultry and whirs sirocco wind
How still, I sense and see, that sea will seem
Stand up, take off and start, as patience thinned
I ought to take a dip into that scene.
Seven harsh squeaky quakes of sea and earth
Shot dear old shape of deer, ol’ sharp hardheaded,
Where Latin, calabrian, bourbon might have heard,
And someone’s on shore waiting, stare ahead.
To us, the sea’s a god as well as person,
Mere might, fair force, pure spirit, pumping heart,
The sea is traitorous, I learnt that soon,
But makes you love it simply by its smell.
At times it seizes though at others grants
On ledgers with no time it does the maths,
Feels like the guts’ intern, fluid meets air
Six hours lasts the switch, just stay aware.
The sea may well disclose or hide you, weary,
That’s yellow, teal and still or navy and wavy.
Presented toil to many men’s false hopes
To lade fair blonde Americans back home,
A law, one day, fixed on to shut the shops
Next, smoking 0.4 had seen a stop.
Days off of skipping school into the tide
Bus 4, fresh warm focaccia in your backpack,
Roll trousers up in knickerbockers style,
In April soaks you mustn’t dump your locks
Or else, farewell my friends, see you in a while.
Nobody mentions names nor knows surnames
Of those that from our columns didn’t part,
Through artists, fugitives and Monsignors
By pedalo or swiftly in motorboat.
See bobbies, churchy or shady long processions
One’s conscience won’t get whitened by plain water,
But sunsets aren’t set to tease with questions
Oh mamma, god forbid such things to bother.
The sea may well disclose or hide you, weary,
That’s yellow, teal and still or navy and wavy.
I close my eyes and feel somewhat nostalgic
For smell of reefs and flavoursome sea truffles
No job’s so good, no city’s spell’s so magic
To tar my sand in sombre cement waffles.
If seaside is your cot, can’t get mismated
A covert cord is tethered to that navel,
Odd void for those, who far, have guts in ravel
Who sense on every coast their home’s related.
The sea may well disclose or hide you, weary,
That’s yellow, teal and still or navy and wavy.
PS: As some of you already know, some stanzas of the original Brindisinian version have been put to music by Amaraterra, a Southern Italian Traditional Music Ensemble based in London. Please, head over my IG account, if you want to listen to an unplugged version of this track.
@LuciaMorciano