Sicilian Poetry

Terpsichore

Santi Bonaccorsi (1914 - 1984)

Santi Bonaccorsi was born at Acicatena on April 28, 1914. Besides his profession as a journalist he involved himself in intense cultural activity, even during his five years of internment in Kenya (during his eleven years in Africa, six in Ethiopia for military service and five as a prisoner of war). He died in Rome on March 6, 1984. "Vo' jucari ccu mia" is his first book.
---translated by Arthur V. Dieli


'U VECCHIU MULINU

'Nta ddu vecchiu mulinu
c'è sempri fudda di genti
ma porta picca frummentu
o non ni porta nenti

e d'a farina ca 'n tempu
'mpruvulazzava lu munnu
ora nni nesci picca
o non nni nesci attunnu

ma ddu vecchiu mulinu
chinu di mulinari
sempri cc'u stissu scrusciu
cuntinua a macinari

di sira e di matina
ccu 'i stissi muvimenti
pari c'assai macina
e non macina nenti

THE OLD MILL

There's always a crowd of people
in that old mill
but they bring little grain
or they bring nil

now there's but a sconce
or none at all
of the flour that once
over the world did fall

but the old mill
full of millstones
always with the same sound
keeps on grinding

by night and by day
with the same motions
seems to be milling away
but it mills nothing

---translated by Arthur V. Dieli

 

SEMPRI BESTIA È
   (da Pirandello)

Cchi fa 'n liuni pp'essiri 'u liuni?
Nenti. Ma 'n omu ha risicari a morti
ppi sèntisi poi diri: "Chi liuni!
Chiddu daveru, sì, ca è 'n omu forti!".

Studia, travagghia, scrivi... A to' 'nfilici
vita di fatti e di pinseri ranni
inchi quantu cchiù poi. E 'a genti dici
parrann'i tia ca si' 'n'aquila ranni.

Ti doli 'u cori? E tu ssi to' duluri
cantali, fanni musica o puisia
duci, e accussi cu ti vo' fari anuri
"È 'n risignolu!" dici poi di tia.

E pirciò ppi non essiri 'n armali
cchi ha fari 'n omu? Nenti? Ma 'u so' peccu
allura è già stampatu tali e quali
'n testa e la genti: "Chiddu? Chiddu è sceccu!".

HE'S ALWAYS AN ANIMAL
   (from Pirandello)

What does a lion do to be a lion?
Nothing. But a man must risk death
to hear it said of him: "What a lion!
Yes, here we have a strong man!".

Study, work, write... Of your troubled
life and your deepest thoughts
as fully as you can. And people will say
of you that you fly like an eagle.

Your heart aches? Sing of your pain
make music or sweet poetry,
and those who would praise you would
say, "His song is like a nightingale's!".

And so to not be an animal, what
must a man do? Nothing? At his peril,
the view of people would be fixed
thus and so: "Him? He's a jackass!".

---translated by Arthur V. Dieli

 

ADDIU, DICEMBRI

Misi ca l'arvuli spogghi
ca 'i banchini d'i strati cummogghi
di pàmpini sicchi e pidiati

misi ca chiovi e scampi e richiovi
di supra e di sutta ni vagni
(sentu vecchi discursi sempri novi
"Cu s'i mangiàu 'i sordi d'i fogni?")

misi ca stenni supr'a citati
'na cutra di nuvuli grigi
ca quasi mi pari d'èssiri a Parigi

misi ca ni stai lassannu
cch'i sòliti buttigghi stuppati
cc'u sòlitu scrusciu di botti
cch'i sòliti 'rossi mangiati

m'a' scusari si mi sentu 'n pocu musciu
e non ti dicu nenti, restu mutu.
Spiràmu ca 'n atr'annu
fussi 'n pocu cchiù allegru 'stu salutu.

GOOD BYE TO DECEMBER

A month that undresses the trees
whose dried leaves cover the benches
on the street and noisily crunch underfoot

a month that rains and stops and rains again
wetting on top and underneath
(I hear the old saying repeated anew
"Did the money go down the rat hole?")

a month that covers the city
with a blanket of grey clouds
making it almost seem like Paris

a month that is leaving us
with the usual bottles uncorked
with the usual sound of coughing
with the usual big feeds

pardon if I sound a little discouraged
and tell you nothing, and stay silent.
Let's hope that in another year
this good bye will be more cheerful.

---translated by Arthur V. Dieli

 

'U SBAGGHIU CCHIÙ RANNI

Sbagghi n'ha fattu tanti
ca si perdi lu cuntu.
Si mi mentu a cuntalli
non 'a finisciu cchiù.

E chi vali? M'addugnu
ca lu sbagghiu cchiù ranni
non è chiddu c'ha fattu
ma è chiddu ca sugnu.

THE BIGGEST MISTAKE

Mistakes I've made so many
that I've lost count.
Were I to set to count them
I would never finish.

What would it serve? I know
that the biggest mistake
is not that which I've made
but that which I am.

---translated by Arthur V. Dieli


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Last updated 11/11/09