As promised in my last post, here is Part 2 of Edmondo De Amicis’ poem Gli Emigranti (The Emigrants).
In the first half of the poem De Amicis describes the emotions of the emigrants as they board the ship which will carry them away into the unknown: the desperate men, women and children, clutching onto their humble bundles of belongings.
In this second part the poet portrays both the feelings of the emigrants aboard the ship and the desolation of their relatives left behind upon the shore with only the hope that maybe one day their loved ones will return home again.

Emigranti italiani a bordo di una nave

Pur nell’angoscia di quell’ultim’ora
il suol che li rifiuta amano ancora;
l’amano ancora il maledetto suolo
che i figli suoi divora,
dove sudano mille e campa un solo.

Despite the anguish of this last hour
they still love the land that rejects them;
they still love the damn land
which devours its own children,
where a thousand sweat and only one survives.

E li han nel core in quei solenni istanti
i bei clivi di allegre acque sonanti,
e le chiesette candide, e i pacati
laghi cinti di piante,
e i villaggi tranquilli ove son nati!

And they have in their hearts in those solemn moments
the beautiful hills echoing with cheerful waters,
and the white churches, and the calm lakes
girded by plants,
and the tranquil villages where they were born!

E ognuno forse sprigionando un grido,
se lo potesse, tornerebbe al lido;
tornerebbe a morir sopra i nativi
monti, nel triste nido
dove piangono i suoi vecchi malvivi.

And each of them, if he could, would probably
let out a cry and return to the shore;
would return to die on his native
mountains, in the sad nest,
where his old parents, barely alive, are crying.

Addio, poveri vecchi! In men d’un anno
rosi dalla miseria e dall’affanno,
forse morrete là senza compianto,
e i figli nol sapranno,
e andrete ignudi e soli al camposanto.

Farewell, poor old ones! In less than a year
eaten by poverty and hardship,
perhaps you’ll die there with no one to mourn you,
and your children won’t know it,
and you’ll go to the cemetery naked and lonely.

Poveri vecchi, addio! Forse a quest’ora
dai muti clivi che il tramonto indora
la man levate i figli a benedire….
Benediteli ancora:
tutti vanno a soffrir, molti a morire.

Poor old ones, farewell! Maybe in this moment
from the silent hills bathed in gold by the setting sun
you’re lifting your hand to bless your children …
Bless them once more:
all heading towards suffering, many to die.

Ecco il naviglio maestoso e lento
salpa, Genova gira, alita il vento.
Sul vago lido si distende un velo,
e il drappello sgomento
solleva un grido desolato al cielo.

Here, the ship, majestic and slow,
is sailing, Genoa swings away, the wind blows.
A veil spreads over the faint shore,
and the dismayed troops
lift a cry to the desolate sky.

Chi al lido che dispar tende le braccia,
chi nell’involto suo china la faccia,
chi versando un’amara onda dagli occhi
la sua compagna abbraccia,
chi supplicando Iddio piega i ginocchi.

Some stretch their arms towards the disappearing shore,
some bend their faces down into their bundle,
some, crying bitter tears from their eyes,
hug their companion,
some bend their knees begging to God.

E il naviglio s’affretta, e il giorno muore,
e un suon di pianti e d’urli di dolore
vagamente confuso al suon dell’onda
viene a morir nel core
de la folla che guarda da la sponda.

And the ship speeds up, and the day dies,
and the sound of cries and shouts of pain
vaguely confused with the sound of the waves
begins to fade in the hearts
of the crowd that watches from the shore.

Addio, fratelli! Addio, turba dolente!
Vi sia pietoso il cielo e il mar clemente,
v’allieti il sole il misero viaggio.
Addio, povera gente,
datevi pace e fatevi coraggio.

Farewell, brothers! Farewell, sorrowful crowd!
May the sky have mercy on you and the sea be clement,
may the sun brighten your sad journey.
Farewell, poor people,
find peace and be brave.

Stringete il nodo dei fraterni affetti.
Riparate dal freddo i fanciulletti ,
dividetevi i cenci, i soldi, il pane,
sfidate uniti e stretti
l’imperversar de le sciagure umane.

Tighten the knot of brotherhood.
Shelter the little children from the cold,
share the rags, the money, the bread,
bound together, united,
defy the rage of human misfortunes.

E Iddio vi faccia rivarcar quei mari,
e tornare ai villaggi umili e cari,
e ritrovare ancor de le deserte
case sui limitari
i vostri vecchi con le braccia aperte.

And may God let you cross those seas again,
and return to the humble beloved villages,
and find once again upon the thresholds
of the empty houses
your old ones with their arms spread wide.