{"id":6909,"date":"2014-08-20T08:51:04","date_gmt":"2014-08-20T08:51:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/italian\/?p=6909"},"modified":"2014-08-20T14:30:28","modified_gmt":"2014-08-20T14:30:28","slug":"saturday-night-in-the-village","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/italian\/saturday-night-in-the-village\/","title":{"rendered":"Saturday Night in the Village"},"content":{"rendered":"

The other day, when I was weaving with Clara and Vincenza at the festival of Antichi Mestieri in Ponticello<\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/a>, Vincenza, watching Clara spinning the wool, began reciting a famous poem that we all studied at school: \u201cSiede con le vicine su la scala a filar la vecchierella\u201d<\/strong>. The poem is called Il Sabato del Villaggio<\/strong> by Giacomo Leopardi<\/strong> (1798 – 1837), and here below is the first verse with an excellent English translation by AS Kline. You can find the whole poem, together with many others, on Kline\u2019s Free Poetry Archive: Poetry in Translation<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/a>.<\/p>\n

\n\n\n\n\n
\"DSCN1646-001\"<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Clara, alla filatura della lana. Photo: Geoff Chamberlain \u00a92014<\/span><\/strong><\/em><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<\/div>\n

To make it a bit easier to link the original Italian poem with the English translation, we\u2019ve split the verse into four sections.<\/p>\n

Il Sabato del Villaggio<\/strong> – Saturday Night in the Village<\/span><\/p>\n

La donzelletta vien dalla campagna
\nin sul calar del sole,
\ncol suo fascio dell’erba; e reca in mano
\nun mazzolin di rose e viole,
\nonde, siccome suole, ornare ella si appresta
\ndimani, al d\u00ed di festa, il petto e il crine.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

The girl comes from the fields,
\nat sunset,
\ncarrying her sheaf of grass: in her fingers
\na bunch of violets and roses:
\nshe\u2019s ready, as before,
\nto wreathe her hair and bodice,
\nfor tomorrow\u2019s holiday.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n
\"francesco_paolo_michetti_fanciulla_abruzzese-001\"<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Fanciulla abruzzese, by Francesco Paolo Michetti (1851 \u2013 1929)<\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

Siede con le vicine
\nsu la scala a filar la vecchierella,
\nincontro l\u00e0 dove si perde il giorno;
\ne novellando vien del suo buon tempo,
\nquando ai d\u00ed della festa ella si ornava,
\ned ancor sana e snella
\nsolea danzar la sera intra di quei
\nch’ebbe compagni nell’et\u00e0 pi\u00fa bella.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

The old woman sits spinning,
\nfacing the dying sunlight,
\non the stairway, with her neighbours,
\ntelling the tale of her own young days,
\nwhen she dressed for the festival,
\nand still slim and lovely,
\ndanced all evening, with those young
\nboys, companions of her fairer season.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n
\"filatrice\"<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
La filatrice. Photo: Anon.<\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

Gi\u00e0 tutta l’aria imbruna,
\ntorna azzurro il sereno, e tornan l’ombre
\ngi\u00fa da’ colli e da’ tetti,
\nal biancheggiar della recente luna.
\nOr la squilla d\u00e0 segno
\ndella festa che viene;
\ned a quel suon diresti
\nche il cor si riconforta.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Already the whole sky darkens,
\nthe air turns deep blue: already
\nshadows of hills and roofs return,
\non the young moon\u2019s pale rising.
\nNow the bells are witness
\nto the coming holiday:
\nyou would say the heart
\nmight take comfort from the sound.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n
\"DSCN1670\"<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Uno scorcio di Ponticello. Photo by Geoff Chamberlain \u00a92014<\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

I fanciulli gridando
\nsu la piazzuola in frotta,
\ne qua e l\u00e0 saltando,
\nfanno un lieto romore;
\ne intanto riede alla sua parca mensa,
\nfischiando, il zappatore,
\ne seco pensa al d\u00ed del suo riposo.<\/strong> <\/span><\/p>\n

A gang of little boys
\nshout in the tiny square,
\nleaping here and there,
\nmaking a happy din:
\nand the farmhand, whistling,
\nreturns for his simple meal,
\ndreams of his day of rest.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\"\"

The other day, when I was weaving with Clara and Vincenza at the festival of Antichi Mestieri in Ponticello, Vincenza, watching Clara spinning the wool, began reciting a famous poem that we all studied at school: \u201cSiede con le vicine su la scala a filar la vecchierella\u201d. The poem is called Il Sabato del Villaggio…<\/p>\n

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