La Primavera è Balzata … what on earth kind of title is that Geoff! Well, if you’re a regular follower of our blog you’ll know by now that Geoff’s mind works in mysterious ways.

Currently, I’m having a phase of re-reading some of my favourite old books which I brought over with me years ago from England. When I packed my boxes and bags for the big move I managed to get rid of an awful lot of clutter, amongst which, several kilos of books that I knew I’d never read again. But carefully squirrelled away amongst my most important possession was a fairly large collection of books that I knew I’d read again, and again, and again.

Fact: no matter how proficient one becomes in a second language, there’s no substitute for reading in your mother tongue, and this I’ve finally accepted, having passed through several phases of forcing myself to read only in Italian. Basta! I read enough Italian every day, on the internet, in the mail, in shops, etc. etc. So, I’m going to treat myself to the luxury of working my way through those old treasured favourites from England. And right now I’m on volume three of Spike Milligan’s wonderful and hilarious (or as he puts it ‘hitlarious’) war memoirs.

the grass is ris. Photo (CC)

Allora, cosa c’entra La Primavera è Balzata? This odd phrase is the result of an experiment with Google translate. I love to share elements of my culture with Italian friends, but some things are simply untranslatable … and that is soooooooooooo frustrating! One of these little untranslatable cultural snippets is the lovely poem that I first read in a collection of Spike Milligan’s poetry. It’s uncertain whether or not Spike was the original author, and it’s often attributed to the multi-talented Anonymous, but he would often recite it when the whim took him. You’ll probably recognise it:

Spring is sprung, the grass is ris.
I wonders where the birdies is.
They say the birds is on the wing.
Ain’t that absurd?
I always thought the wing was on the bird

Now what would happen, I asked myself, if I entered this poem into Google translate, seeing as it largely depends upon on wordplay for its humorous effect?
Here’s what the wonderful ubiquitous Google came up with:

La primavera è balzata, l’erba è ris.
Mi chiede se i birdie è.
Dicono che gli uccelli è sulla fascia.
Non è che assurdo?
Ho sempre pensato che l’ala era l’uccello

Nooooooooooooooooooooo, wrong wrong and wrong again! But wait, what is this button that I see here? Wrong? Improve this translation … yes, yes, and yes again! Okay, here we go:

La primavera è balzata, l’erba si è alzata.
Mi chiedo dove sono gli uccellini.
Dicono che gli uccelli sono in volo.
Non è assurdo?
Ho sempre pensato che l’ala era sugli uccelli.

But it just ain’t funny no more …. spring/sprung, birds on the wing/wing on the birds … epic fail! In Italian of course, spring, as in the season, and spring, as in a coiled up piece of metal don’t share the same word: la primavera = spring, la molla = spring, balzare = to spring, or leap. And we don’t say gli uccelli sono sull’ala in Italian but gli uccelli sono in volo = the birds are in flight!

The moral of my sad tale, dear readers? As a forestiero (outsider/foreigner), some parts of your culture you will simply never be able to share.