La vispa Teresa (إلى الإنكليزية ترجم)

  • الفنان: Trilussa (Carlo Alberto Camillo Mariano Salustri)
  • يؤدى الأغنية أيضا:: Paolo Rossini
  • الأغنية: La vispa Teresa
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الأيطالية

La vispa Teresa

La vispa Teresa
avea tra l’erbetta
a volo sorpresa
gentil farfalletta
e tutta giuliva
stringendola viva
gridava a distesa:
“L’ho presa! L’ho presa!”.
 
A lei supplicando
l’afflitta gridò:
“Vivendo, volando
che male ti fò?
Tu sì mi fai male
stringendomi l’ale!
Deh, lasciami! Anch’io
son figlia di Dio!”.
 
Confusa, pentita,
Teresa arrossì,
dischiuse le dita
e quella fuggì.
 
~~~
 
Se questa è la storia,
che sanno a memoria
i bimbi di un anno,
pochissimi sanno
che cosa le avvenne
quand’era ventenne!
 
Un giorno di festa,
la vispa Teresa
uscendo di chiesa
si alzava la vesta
per farsi vedere
le calze chiffonne,
ché a tutte le donne
fa tanto piacere.
 
Armando il pittore,
vedendola bella,
le chiese il favore
di far da modella.
Teresa arrossì
ma disse di sì.
“Verrete?” “Verrò:
ma badi però…!”
“Parola d’onore!”
rispose il pittore.
 
Il giorno seguente,
Armando, l’artista,
stringendo furente
la nuova conquista,
gridava a distesa:
“T’ho presa, T’ho presa!”
 
A lui supplicando
Teresa gridò
“Su, su, mi fa male
la spina dorsale,
mi lasci ché anch’io
son figlia di Dio…"
“Se ha qualche programma
ne parli a la mamma…”
A tale minaccia
Armando tremò,
dischiuse le braccia…
ma quella restò.
 
Perduto l’onore,
sfumata la stima,
la vispa Teresa
più vispa di prima,
per niente pentita,
per niente confusa,
capì che l’amore
non è che una scusa.
 
Per circa tre lustri
fu cara a parecchi:
fra giovani e vecchi,
fra oscuri ed illustri,
la vispa Teresa
fu presa e ripresa.
Contenta e giuliva
soffriva e s’offriva.
(La donna che soffre
se apostrofa l’esse
ha tutto interesse
di dire che s’offre).
 
Ma giunta ai cinquanta,
con l’anima affranta,
col viso un po’ tinto,
col resto un po’ finto
per torsi d’impaccio
dai prossimi acciacchi,
apriva uno spaccio
di sale e tabacchi.
 
Un giorno un cliente,
chiedendo un toscano
le porse la mano,
così… casualmente:
Teresa la prese,
la strinse e gli chiese:
“Mi vuole sposare?
Farebbe un affare!”
Ma lui, di rimando,
rispose: “No, no!…
Vivendo fumando
che male ti fo?”
Confusa e pentita
Teresa arrossì,
dischiuse le dita
e quello fuggì.
 
Ed ora Teresa,
pentita davvero,
non ha che un pensiero:
d’andarsene in chiesa.
Con l’anima stracca
si siede e stabacca,
offrendo al Signore
gli avanzi di un cuore
che batte la fiacca.
 
Ma spesso fissando
con l’occhio smarrito
la polvere gialla
che resta sul dito,
le sembra il detrito
di quella farfalla
che un giorno ghermiva
stringendola viva.
 
Così, come allora,
Teresa risente
la voce innocente
che prega ed implora:
“Deh! Lasciami! Anch’io
son figlia di Dio!”
“Fu proprio un bel caso!
- sospira Teresa,
fiutando la presa
che sale nel naso -
Se qui non son lesta
mi scappa anche questa!”
 
E fiuta e rifiuta,
tossisce e sternuta:
il naso è una tromba
che squilla e rimbomba
e pare che l’eco
si butti allo spreco…
 
Fra un fiotto e un rimpianto,
tra un soffio e un eccì!
la vispa Teresa…
lasciamola lì.
 
تم نشره بواسطة Valeriu RautValeriu Raut في الأربعاء, 12/09/2018 - 15:08
تم تعديله آخر مرة بواسطة Stefano8Stefano8 في الأحد, 17/02/2019 - 19:20
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Rivisitazione de La farfalletta (La vispa Teresa) di Sailer.
***

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إلى الإنكليزية ترجم

Lively Teresa

Lively Teresa
had caught a butterfly
in middle flight, by surprise,
among the grass;
she was extremely blithe,
and while holding it alive in her grips,
she was shouting out loudly:
“I got it! I got it!”.
 
Begging her,
the afflicted thing cried:
“By living, by flying,
what harm do I cause you?
You do hurt me
by gripping my wings!
Please, let go of me! I’m
God’s child too!”.
 
Confused and regretful,
Teresa blushed,
she opened her hand
and the creature was gone.
 
~~~
 
While this is the story
that even 1-year-old children
know by heart,
very few know
what happened to her
when she was twenty!
 
One festive day,
while walking out of church,
lively Teresa
raised her robes
to show
her chiffon stockings,
because that’s something
that pleases every woman.
 
Armando the painter,
seeing she was beautiful,
asked her the favor
of being her model.
Teresa blushed
but said yes.
“Will you come?” “I’ll come;
just be careful…!”
“You have my word of honor!”
replied the painter.
 
The following day,
Armando the artist
- while holding on tight
to his new conquest -
shouted out loudly:
“I got you, I got you!”
 
Begging him,
Teresa cried
“Now, now, you’re hurting my…
backbone,
let go of me, ’cause I’m
God’s daughter too…"
“If you have any plan,
you can discuss it with my mum…”
At such a threat,
Armando trembled,
he opened his arms…
but she stayed.
 
Once she had lost her honor,
once her virtue had faded,
lively Teresa,
livelier than before,
not regretful at all,
not confused at all,
realized that love
is nothing but an excuse.
 
For about fifteen years
she was dear to many:
the young and the old,
the unknown and the illustrious;
lively Teresa
was taken again and again.
Pleased and blithe,
she suffered and offered herself.1
(A woman who suffers,
if she adds an apostrophe to the 's',
has all the interest in
saying that she’s offering herself).
 
But when she turned fifty,
with her soul afflicted,
with her face a bit painted,
with the rest a bit fake,
to get off the hook,
she opened
a tobacco shop.
 
One day, a customer,
while asking for a cigar,
stretched our his hand,
just like that… casually;
Teresa grabbed it,
held tight onto it and asked him:
“Will you marry me?
That would be a good deal for you!”
But he said
in return: “No, No!…
I smoke all the time,
I’d be causing you harm.”
Confused and regretful,
Teresa blushed;
she opened her hand
and he was gone.
 
And now Teresa,
really regretful,
has one single thought:
going to church.
With a weary soul,
she sits down and sniffs tobacco,
offering to the Lord
the remnants of a heart
that’s slacking off.
 
Yet, often, in staring
with glazed eyes
at the yellow powder
left on her finger,
that powder seems to her like the debris
of that butterfly
that she had seized one day,
holding it, alive.
 
So, just like back then,
Teresa can hear
the innocent voice
pleading and begging:
“Please, let go of me! I’m
God’s child too!”
“That was really something!
- Teresa sighs,
while sniffing the pinch,
which goes up her nose -
If I’m not quick,
this is going to get away too!”
 
She sniffs and sniffs again,
she coughs and sneezes;
her nose is like a trumpet
blasting and thumping,
and it seems like the echo
is wasting away…
 
Between a gush and a regret,
between a blow and an atchoo!,
lively Teresa…
let’s leave her there.
 
  • 1. soffrire, soffre, soffriva = to suffer, (she) suffers, (she) was suffering
    offrirsi, s’offre, s’offriva = to offer oneself, (she) offers herself, (she) was offering herself
You can use my translations however you like.
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تم نشره بواسطة Stefano8Stefano8 في الأحد, 06/01/2019 - 19:46
تم تعديله آخر مرة بواسطة Stefano8Stefano8 في الخميس, 17/01/2019 - 19:07
Idioms from "La vispa Teresa"
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Stefano8Stefano8    الخميس, 17/01/2019 - 19:09

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