I Pastori (The Shepherds)

Gabriele D’Annunzio

Settembre, andiamo. È tempo di migrare.
Ora in terra d’Abruzzi i miei pastori
lascian gli stazzi e vanno verso il mare:
scendono all’Adriatico selvaggio
che verde è come i pascoli dei monti. Han bevuto profondamente ai fonti
alpestri, che sapor d’acqua natia
rimanga nei cuori esuli a conforto,
che lungo illuda la lor sete in via.
Rinnovato han verga d’avellano.E vanno pel tratturo antico al piano,
quasi per un erbal fiume silente,
su le vestigia degli antichi padri.
O voce di colui che primamente
conosce il tremolar della marina!Ora lungh’esso il litoral camina
la greggia. Senza mutamento è l’aria.
Il sole imbionda si la viva lana
che quasi dalla sabbia non divaria.
Isciacquio, calpestio, dolci rumori.

Ah perchè non son io co’ miei pastori?

September, let us go. It’s time to migrate.
Now in the land of Abruzzi my shepherds
leave the stables and go towards the sea:
they go down to the wild Adriatic
which is green as their mountain pastures. They drank deeply at the mountain
springs, so that a taste of native water
stays in their displaced hearts to comfort them,
so that long it may soothe their thirst along the way.
They have replaced their chestnut shepherd’s staff.And they go along the ancient track to the plain,
as if following a grassy silent river,
on the footsteps of their ancient fathers.
O the voice of he who first
recognizes the trembling of the sea waters!Now following the coast the sheep tread.
Motionless is the air.
The sun so lightens the living wool
that it’s almost indistinguishable from the sand.
Splashing, trampling, sweet noises.

Alas why am I not with my shepherds?


Rificolona in Florence — Ona, Ona, Ona!

Rificolona in Florence Ona, Ona, Ona!

Ona, Ona, Ona,
O che bella Rificolona,
La mia l’é coi fiocchi,
La tua l’é coi pidocchi!
(Ona, ona, ona,
What a beautiful Rificolona,
Mine with bows is tied,
In yours, lice do reside!)

Florentine children sing this song as they wander through the streets of Florence the first week of September, carrying papier-mâché lanterns tied to the ends of sticks, called rificolone. There are several theories as to where the tradition originates from, some think it commemorates the triumphant entry of Florentine troops into Siena on August 2 1555, when the soldiers tied lanterns onto the ends of their pikes.

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