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Tributo a Massimo...in inglese!

Oggi mi è venuta voglia di dare un respiro più ampio ad una splendida poesia di Massimo Troisi :
'O saje comme fa 'o core !
Per farlo, ho provato a tradurla in inglese... così che possa essere letta da tutto il mondo...

You know how the heart does
You were engaged with another one
and I looked at you,
before my eyes got the time
to fall in love,
my heart already went ahead.
For me, for me:
You know how the heart does
when it falls in love.

You were engaged with me,
I looked at you
and I said to myself:
"What happened
that it's finished?
But I don't give up,
I want to try!".
Then my heart went ahead
and it told to me:
"Do you want to try?
So you try,
but I'll go away".
You know how the heart does
When It Is Wrong.
(Massimo Troisi)

without great pretensions ...
Porcelain!

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Una bella favola moderna

(... omitted ...)

Worldwide, there are people who are and will be made in the same way, and others that may change . So far so normal. But I was interested in a third class of living beings, class I thought was severely pathological: the Unfinished. Are those that fluctuate constantly, and that at any time can become something else. Let's be clear: I'm not saying become more how to change hair style or facial expression. I mean completely different. Real metamorphosis.
Consumed by their disease, and the Unfinished never find peace, can not be stably themselves. They are like water in the water: they can take any form and no, become anything.

(... omitted ...)

was born, he had become aware, learned many things, even loved, and now, after throwing light around him, he prepared to meekly fade away. He had never deluded, ever stubborn, he had never hoped to be something definitive.
Rosaura's what it was really a being mixed and provisional.
What we are all, if only we the courage to admit it. A
be mixed and provisional. Almost nothing, and yet it seemed to me the greatest thing that my head was never able to think.
And that's all.
Or at least, all that matters.

(... omitted ...)

I discovered one thing: what we all believe: that a moment before his death there passed before his eyes all his life, is not accurate. In fact there is to visit a single memory, but it is a memory that holds the entire existence.
I for a moment I saw my mother from the cradle as I sang a song. And I realized that life is not worth that much, if not to the world: a well-made object or a living being or even themselves in new ways, it makes no difference.
Bringing the World.
E 'in the flash that I got my redemption.

(Dario Buzzolan, " tale of two who became a " )

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Pomeriggio sul lungomare

not malice, but it would be selfish not to share some of these feelings ...
The warm sun that warms the body and the heart ...
The rhythmic sound of the sea that breaks on the rocks ...
The light sea breeze caressing your face and hair ...
Try and try again ...

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