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La spigolatrice di Sapri

Luigi Mercantini
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OriginalLa versione inglese di Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
LA SPIGOLATRICE DI SAPRI

Eran trecento, eran giovani e forti, e sono morti!

Me ne andavo al mattino a spigolare,
quando ho visto una barca in mezzo al mare:
era una barca che andava a vapore;
e alzava una bandiera tricolore;
all'isola di Ponza s'è fermata,
è stata un poco e poi si è ritornata;
s'è ritornata ed è venuta a terra;
sceser con l'armi, e a noi non fecer guerra.

Sceser con l'armi, e a noi non fecer guerra,
ma s'inchinaron per baciar la terra,
ad uno ad uno li guardai nel viso;
tutti aveano una lagrima e un sorriso.
Li disser ladri usciti dalle tane,
ma non portaron via nemmeno un pane;
e li sentii mandare un solo grido:
«Siam venuti a morir pel nostro lido».

Con gli occhi azzurri e coi capelli d'oro
un giovin camminava innanzi a loro.
Mi feci ardita, e, presol per la mano,
gli chiesi: «Dove vai, bel capitano?»
Guardommi e mi rispose: «O mia sorella,
vado a morir per la mia patria bella».
Io mi sentii tremare tutto il core,
né potei dirgli: «V'aiuti 'l Signore!»

Quel giorno mi scordai di spigolare,
e dietro a loro mi misi ad andare.
Due volte si scontrar con li gendarmi,
e l'una e l'altra li spogliar dell'armi;
ma quando fur della Certosa ai muri,
s'udirono a suonar trombe e tamburi;
e tra 'l fumo e gli spari e le scintille
piombaro loro addosso più di mille.

Eran trecento, e non voller fuggire;
parean tremila e vollero morire;
ma vollero morir col ferro in mano,
e avanti a lor correa sangue il piano:
fin che pugnar vid'io per lor pregai;
ma un tratto venni men, né più guardai;
io non vedeva più fra mezzo a loro
quegli occhi azzurri e quei capelli d'oro.

Eran trecento, eran giovani e forti, e sono morti!
THE GLEANER OF SAPRI

THEY were three hundred, they were young and strong,
And they are dead!
One morning as I went to glean the grain,
I saw a bark in middle of the main;
It was a bark came steaming to the shore,
And hoisted for its flag the tricolor.
At Ponza’s isle it stopped beneath the lea,
It stayed awhile, and then put out to sea,
Put out to sea, and came unto our strand;
Landed with arms, but not as foemen land.
They were three hundred, they were young and strong,
And they are dead!

Landed with arms, but not as foemen land,
For they stooped down and kissed the very sand.
And one by one I looked them in the face;
A tear and smile in each one I could trace!
“Thieves from their dens are these,” some people said,
And yet they took not even a loaf of bread!
I heard them utter but a single cry:
“We for our native land have come to die!”
They were three hundred, they were young and strong,
And they are dead!

With eyes of azure, and with hair of gold,
A young man marched in front of them; and bold
I made myself, and having seized his hand,
Asked him, “Where goest, fair captain of the band?”
He looked at me and answered, “Sister mine,
I go to die for this fair land of thine!”
I felt my heart was trembling through and through,
Nor could I say to him, “God comfort you!”
They were three hundred, they were young and strong,
And they are dead!

That morning I forgot to glean the grain,
And set myself to follow in their train.
Twice over they encountered the gens-d’armes,
Twice over they despoiled them of their arms;
But when we came before Certosa’s wall
We heard the drums beat and the trumpets call,
And ’mid the smoke, the firing, and the glare,
More than a thousand fell upon them there.
They were three hundred, they were young and strong,
And they are dead!

They were three hundred, and they would not fly;
They seemed three thousand, and they wished to die,
But wished to die with weapons in their hands;
Before them ran with blood the meadow lands.
I prayed for them, but ere the fight was o’er,
Swooned suddenly away, and looked no more;
For in their midst I could no more behold
Those eyes of azure and that hair of gold!
They were three hundred, they were young and strong,
And they are dead!


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