Il diciassette marzo
Lucilla Galeazzi| Originale | Traduzione inglese di Alessandro Portelli dall’edizione inglese d... |
| IL DICIASSETTE MARZO 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. | CANTATA FOR LUIGI TRASTULLI 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! |
