The right poem for this historical event was composed seventy years ago

[fpb]

Practical sense (A poem by the great comic poet Trilussa, composed in the thirties about contemporary politics, but with some relevance to this day. My translation is followed by the original.)

The night that someone spread around a tale
That in the old castle they could see a ghost,
A mob ran there; most saw it, and most
Fell on their knees and screamed out like a gale.
Just one old man still stood on the green,
Itching to say that nothing could be seen.

Then his good sense spoke: "Is that wise?
No doubt your eyes can see some wind-blown sheets;
But where so much mob enthusiasm meets,
To follow's safer than to trust your eyes.
So it's a spectre, no argument at all."
And the old man as well started to crawl.


Bonsenso pratico

Quanno de notte sparsero la voce
che un Fantasma girava sur castello
tutta la Folla corse e, ner vedello,
cascò in ginocchio co' le braccia in croce.
Ma un Vecchio restò in piedi, e francamente
voleva dije che nun c'era gnente.

Poi ripensò: - Sarebbe una pazzia.
Io, senza dubbio, vedo ch'è un lenzolo:
ma più che di' la verità da solo,
preferisco sbajamme in compagnia.
Dunque è un Fantasma, senza discussione. -
E pure lui se mise a pecorone.

Comments

[filialucis]

Heh. Apt indeed.