Il diciassette marzo

Lucilla Galeazzi
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OriginalTraduzione inglese di Alessandro Portelli dall’edizione inglese d...

Il diciassette marzo
lasciammo le officine
per dire a lor signori
non più morti e rovine.

Il patto che firmaste
è un tradimento nero
che renderà l'Italia
serva dello straniero.

Inermi marciavamo
quand'ecco la sbirraglia
ci affrontan con le gippe
a colpi di mitraglia.

Noi le gridammo pace
ma ci risposer guerra
e di sangue innocente
si fe rossa la terra.

Aveva ventun anni
ed era ardito e forte
pace gli disse o infami
ma voi gli deste morte

O guardie scellerate
celere maledetta
il sangue di Trastulli
dal ciel grida vendetta

O sposa giovinetta
a te e al tuo pargoletto
gridiam che l'assassino
non morirà nel letto.

E tu gente ternana
che sulla bara hai pianto
raccogli il giuramento
propaga questo canto.


This song of mine ‎
is neither for joy
nor for glee;‎
yet let it not sound sad to you.‎

It is born in sorrow,‎
but sings the hope
of the people who struggle
and shed their blood as they march on.‎

On March 17,‎
we walked out of the factories,‎
I to tell those in power:‎
I no more war and destruction.‎

The Treaty you have signed
is a dark act of treason,‎
which will make Italy‎
a slave to foreigners.‎

And hard-working Terni,‎
Terni the workers' town,‎
is telling you right now:‎
we'll never let it be!‎

And as we marched, we sang
under the golden sun,‎
our songs of peace,‎
our songs of labor.‎

But the prefect and his partners‎
as they sat down to eat,‎
had already made up their minds
to teach us all a lesson.‎

Unarmed we marched,‎
when the dirty cops
rushed against us with jeeps,‎
tear gas, and machine guns.‎

We shouted to them: Peace!‎
But they answered us with war,‎
and the earth was reddened
with innocent blood.‎

You heartless guard,‎
you accursed cops!‎
Trastulli's blood
from heaven cries for vengeance.‎

He was twenty-one years old,‎
and he was strong and bold;‎
he offered you peace,‎
and you, rascals, gave him death.‎

A happy father and husband,‎
life smiled on him;‎
but you cut him down
with a volley of your machine gun.‎

To you, young bride,‎
and to your little child,‎
we swear that the killers
shall not die on their bed.‎

And you, people of Terni,‎
who wept upon his grave,‎
take up this oath,‎
and teach the world this song.‎

Let every heart be melted,‎
even if made of stone,‎
remembering the massacre
of March 17!‎

Terni, remember!‎
Terni shall not forget!‎

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