This chapter also includes so-called "larger languages."
The poems are listed alphabetically by poet's name.
Alphabetical list of the languages included here:
>Shqip/Albanian
-Irma Kurti
>װיקיפּעדיע/Arabic
-Adel Khozam
>Հայերեն/Armenian
-Armenuhi Sisyan
>বাংলা ভাষা/Bengali language
-Tamali Neogi
>Catalan
-Ignasi Ripoll
>Galego/Galician
-Laura Paz Fentanes + translation Vrieheit from Germain Droogenbroodt
>Gĩkũyũ/Kikuyu
-Bob Mwangi Kihara
>Korean language
Kang Byeong-Cheol
>Lu Sicilianu/Sicilian
-Maria Nivea Zagarella + Italian translation + English translation by Gaetano Cipolla
>Sawāḥilī /Swahili
-Bob Mwangi Kihara
>Türkçe?Turkisch
-Barbaros İrdelmen
***
朝鮮語 – 维基百科，自由的百科全书/Koreaansk/Koreaans/Korean language
가을 잎의 자유
모든 살아 있는 것은
자유를 향해 태어난다.
벽은 우리의 이름을 새기고,
땅은 파멸을 말한다.
별의 시간이 넓어질 때,
묶인 자들은 일어나
자기 매듭을 끊는다.
여름의 잎들은
돌벽에 매달려
가을의 불을 입고
마침내 사슬을 끊어낸다.
담쟁이의 추락—
그것이 이 땅에서의 자유.
오 잎이여,
부서진 공기를 넘어
바람과 함께 날자.
세상이 쉼 없이 도는 가운데,
모든 사슬은
끝내
역사의 희미한 노래가 된다.
Kang Byeong-Cheol
International Poetry Showcase #3 Kang Byeong- Cheol – Fevers of the Mind
Korean Poetry: A Beautiful Journey – Sindh Courier
Kang Byeong-Cheol (Prepared Angela Kosta ) – Orfeu.AL
Freedom of the Autumn Leaf
All that lives
is born toward freedom.
Walls carve our names;
the earth speaks ruin.
When the time of stars widens,
the bound ones rise
and cut their own knots.
Leaves of summer
cling to stone walls,
take on autumn’s fire,
and at last break their chains.
The ivy’s fall—
that is freedom on the earth.
O leaves,
beyond the shattered air,
let us fly with the wind.
In the ceaseless turning of the world,
every chain,
at last,
becomes history’s fading song.
Translation: Kang Byeong-Cheol
***
Türkçe/Turksk/Turks/Turks/Turkish
Özgürlük
Balık anlat özgürlüğü
Akvaryumdan çıkmadan
Anlat
Nasıl yüzülür engin sularda
Neden sustun bülbül
Güzel sesinle şarkılarında anlat
Aslan göster sen de cesaretini
Kükre
İkiniz de
Kafesinizden çıkmadan…
Barbaros İrdelmen
Freedom
Fish, tell me of freedom—
without leaving the aquarium,
tell me
how one swims in the boundless seas.
Why did you fall silent, nightingale?
Sing of it with your beautiful voice.
And you, lion, show your courage,
roar!
Both of you—
without ever leaving
your cages…
Translation: Barbaros İrdelmen
***
אראביש – װיקיפּעדיע/Arabysk/Arabic
دمأ
لقي خُطبي النارية ليلاً في المقابر
أكتبُ بالدمِ بدلًا من التبرعِ به للمساكين
نعم آمنتُ بالحرية
لكني كافرٌ بما هو دونها
نعم أحبُّ أبي وأمي
ولكن أكرهُ أنهما أنجباني
ثم ماتا سريعًا في قطارٍ سريع
ولم يتركا لي سوى إرثِ الكارثة
وبعضًا من ترابِ جنّاتٍ بعيدةٍ
لا وجودَ لها على الخارطة
صورة
اللَّيلة..
المدينةُ كلُّها مُضاءةٌ بألعابٍ ناريَّة
قُبعتي جُنونٌ مُسافِر
جيبايِ يُصفِّقانِ لوحدِهِما
والخير والشر مُتَعانِقانِ لأوَّلِ مرَّة
إنَّهم يحتفلونَ بانتهاءِ الحربِ بعدَ مليونِ عام
لأوَّلِ مرَّة
نهدُ المرأةِ ليسَ رمزًا للبُركان
كُتبُ الأنبياءِ ليستْ سببًا لِوِلادةِ السَّيف
الحُبُّ جَرَسُ مُنبِّهٍ في ساعاتِ الحائط
والحرّيَّة
هذي التي توهَّموا وجودَها
تلبَسُ فُستانَها الشَّفَّاف
وتقفُ عاريةً
لالتقاطِ صورةِ البدايةِ من جديد
جسور
المؤمنون بوجود الآخرة 99٪، ومن بينهم أطفالٌ ومراهقون
المؤمنون بالحرية 88٪، وليس من بينهم فيلسوفٌ واحد
المؤمنون بالعدالة كلهم خريجو كلية الشرطة
أنا وابني نصطاد السمكَ تحت الجسر
يشدُّ خيوطَنا التيارُ المائي، وتُرخيها نعومته
ونواجهُ أحيانًا الدوّامات
كأن ننحني للعاصفة وهم يظنّوننا نصلّي
ثم يدفعني ابني ويقف مكاني مواجهًا التيار
مؤمنًا مثلي
بأن الآخرة والحرية والعدم
جسورُ عبور كلِّ أعمى، ليكونَ ملكًا على التيه
Adel Khozam
عادل خزام – ويكيبيديا
Adel Khozam
World Poetry Tree: An Anthology for Hope, Love and Peace
Freedom poems I, II, III
Blood
I crown my head with a crimson turban
I deliver my fiery sermons at night in the graveyards
I write with blood
instead of donating it
to the poor
Yes I believed in freedom
but I am a heretic to everything beneath it
Yes I love my father and mother
but I hate that they gave me birth
then died too soon on a fast train
leaving me only the inheritance of disaster
and a handful of dust from distant heavens
that exist on no map.
Image
Tonight
the whole city glows with fireworks
My hat a wandering madness
my pockets clap alone
good and evil embrace for the first time
They celebrate the end of war
after a million years
For the first time
a woman’s breast is not a symbol of a volcano
The prophets’ books no longer give birth
to the sword
Love a ringing bell in a wall clock
and freedom
that illusion they imagined
wears her transparent dress
stands naked
to capture again
the image of beginning again
Bridges
Believers in the afterlife 99%
among them children and teenagers
Believers in freedom 88%
not one of them a philosopher
Believers in justice
all graduates of the police academy
My son and I
fish beneath the bridge
the water current pulls our lines
then releases them softly
we sometimes face whirlpools
as if bowing to the storm
while they think we pray
Then my son pushes me aside
and stands in my place facing the current
believing like me
that the afterlife, freedom, and nothingness
are bridges
for every blind soul to cross
to become a king of bewilderment.
Translations: Adel Khozam
***
Gĩgĩkũyũ/Gikuyu taal/Kikuyu language/
– mother tongue of the author
Wiyathi ni utuuro
Wiyathi ni ngo na kihoto,
Wiyathi ni utuuro na gitiyo kia utuuro mwega.
Wiyathi ni thayu na wendo,
Wiyathi ni gutungatira na kugitira njiaro iriho na iria cigooka.
Wiyathi ni kwiyatha na gukorwo kuri uthii nambere.
Wiyathi ni gukuria bururi na micii ciri kindu kimwe.
Wiyathi ni gutiya ihoto cia andu kwiyatha muturireini wao uria mekwenda maiguaniire hamwe.
Wiyathi ni andu magie na irio cia kuigana.
Wiyathi ni thayu na gitiyo kia witikio wa andu kuhoya uria makwende na gukorwo mari hamwe.
Oo hamwe na gutetera ihoto ciao na itiyo cia utuuro uri mwoyo.
Wiyathi ni gutiya wendo wa mundu guthuura kana guthurwo kuringana na uria etikitie.
Wiyathi ni kugitira andu kuuma kiriro na wuiti wa thakame umaniite na haro kana ciiko citari cia umundu.
Wiyathi ni kuhe mundu mweke arute wira kana eke undu ungimuhe magetha ma gukuria utuuro wake.
Wiyathi ni kurigita arwaru na kuhe andu githomo,
Wiyathi ni gutiya mundu na uturo wake wothe,
Gutiya muoyo wake na kuugitira kuuma kwanangwo, Ni kugitira andu kuma ugwati kana ciiko cia wikinaai.
Wiyathi ni gukuria uuma.
Wiyathi ni njira na utheri mwega wa utuuro.
Wiyathi ni wega wa utuuro na kugitira mwoyo murathime.
Ni kugitira andu kuma urathoni na mitugo miuru.
Wiyathi ni kwiyohora kuma kioho, bingu kana wihia utuuroini.
Bob Mwangi Kihara
Robert Mwangi
Kiswahilizo huru/Swahily/Swahili/Kiswahili/
Uhuru ni uhai
Uhuru ni ngao, na uhuru ni haki.
Uhuru ni maisha, na uhai mzuri wa maisha.
Uhuru ni amani na uhuru ni upendo.
Uhuru ni kutunza vizazi vilivyo, na vizazi vijavyo.
Uhuru ni madaraka na ustawi,
Maendeleo na umoja, elimu na afya nzuri.
Uhuru ni kuunganisha jamaa na jamii.
Uhuru ni haki za watu kuheshimiwa na kutimizwa,
Watu wawe na vyakula vya kutosha.
Uhuru ni amani na haki ya kuabudu na kuungana,
Kuteta na kufuatilia nia zao na kupigania haki zao.
Uhuru ni haki ya watu kujitawala watakavyo.
Uhuru ni haki ya kuchagua na kuchaguliwa,
Uhuru ni kinga dhidi ya mathara ya vita, umwagikaji wa damu na kasoro zote zinazo kumba binadamu.
Uhuru ni heshima ya haki zote za binadamu,
utu wake na uhai.
Uhuru ni haki ya kupata huduma utakavyo, kazi au kile kitakachopatia binadamu mapato kueneza uhai wake.
Haki ya kutibu wagonjwa na kusomesha watu.
Heshima kwa utu wa binadamu na kuwa ngao yake dhidi ya uharibifu.
Uhuru ni kujikinga kutoka utovu wa nidhamu au kueneza tabia mbaya.
Uhuru ni kueneza ukweli.
Uhuru ni mwangaza na njia nzuri ya uhai.
Uhuru ni uzuri wa uhai na kuzuia uovu dhidi ya waliobarikiwa.
Uhuru ni kujiokoa na kujiondoa au kujifungua kutoka minyororo, pingu, utovu na dhambi za kimaisha.
Bob Mwangi Kihara
Freedom is Life
Freedom is a shield, freedom is a right
A right to life, a right to the right livelihoods.
Freedom is peace and freedom is love.
Freedom is the right to safeguard current generations and future generations.
Freedom is responsibility and prosperity,
Progress and unity, education and health.
Freedom is to unite communities and families.
Freedom is the right of people to be respected and their rights fulfilled.
The right of people to have enough food.
The right to peace and the right to worship and unite as necessary.
The right of people to rule themselves and propagate and uphold the right to their interests and justice.
Freedom is the right to elect or be elected.
The right to services and access to livelihoods that sustain life, including engagement in employment.
Freedom is the shield against the vagaries of war and all possible ills that threaten human life and its sanctity through bloodshed.
Freedom is the respect of all human rights, their sanctity and life.
Freedom is the goodness that protects the sanctity of life,
It is the truth, the way and the light of life.
It is the removal of humanity from the shackles of oppression, wrong, sin and immorality.
Translation: Bob Mwangi Kihara
***
Shqip/Albanees/Albanian language
Në e lëndinën e ëndrrave
Dëgjova krisma të afërta e të largëta,
që këtë natë gjumin ma trembën.
Në qetësinë e rreme që më rrethonte
dëgjoheshin vetëm rrahjet e zemrës.
E qara e një fëmije i ndoqi nga pas
si melodi e ndarë në qindra pjesë.
Pre e errësirës, në mendime rashë,
loti në sytë e mi – si një pikë vesë.
Mos ia trembni gjumin atij fëmije,
jeta për të është veç një përrallë,
le të rendë në lëndinën e ëndrrave,
ku pafund pikojnë liri edhe paqe.
Së shpejti agimi do t’m’i thajë lotët
e unë do nis të ëndërroj si ai fëmijë.
Shpresat e mia janë re të qepura
në një qiell të zymtë pas stuhisë.
Sonte krahët e lirisë seç u vranë.
Me sy të lodhur fotografoj qiellin:
Ai ngjan si një këmish’ e përgjakur,
pas pak në horizont do lindë dielli.
Irma Kurti
Irma Kurti – Wikipedia
Irma Kurti – impspired
In un prato di sogni
Ho udito degli spari vicini e distanti,
che mi hanno spaventata stanotte.
Nel silenzio finto che mi circondava
si sentiva solo il battito del mio cuore.
Il pianto di un bambino li ha seguiti
come una melodia triste e spezzata.
Immersa nel buio dei miei pensieri
ho nascosto il dolore in una lacrima.
Non rompete il sonno di quel bimbo,
la vita per lui è solo una bella favola,
lasciatelo vagare in un prato di sogni,
in cui verde, pace e libertà gocciolano.
Presto l’alba mi asciugherà le lacrime
e io come il bimbo inizierò a sognare.
Le mie speranze sono nuvole cucite
in un cielo scuro dopo il temporale.
Stanotte le ali della libertà sono state
uccise. I miei occhi fissano l’orizzonte:
Il cielo è una camicia insanguinata,
pian piano lì sta sorgendo il sole.
Italian translation: Irma Kurti
In a meadow of dreams
I heard near and distant gunshots,
that tonight chased away the peace.
In the fake silence surrounding me
was heard only my fast heartbeat.
The cry of a child followed them
just like a sad and broken melody.
Immersed in the dark of thoughts
I hid the pain and anguish in a tear.
Please, don’t break that child’s sleep,
life is a charming fairy tale for him,
let him walk in a meadow of dreams,
where only peace and freedom drip.
Soon the dawn will wipe off my tears
and I’ll begin to dream as that child.
My hopes are like confused clouds
after the storm in a dark, gloomy sky.
Tonight, the wings of freedom were
killed. My eyes look at the horizon:
The sky is an immense bloody shirt,
little by little, there the sun is rising.
English translation: Irma Kurti
***
বাংলা ভাষা – উইকিপিডিয়া/Bengaals/Bengali language
স্বাধীনতা
মানুষ, তোমার দুই স্কন্ধে যেন জগতের ভার,
হাত, মুখে কালিমেখে, এগোচ্ছ কোনো মতে,
ঠিক যেমনটা কুঁতিয়ে কুঁতিয়ে এগিয়ে চলেছে আমাদের জাতি,
প্রস্তাবনার বাঁধানো শব্দগুলো,
ঠিক পূর্ণতা পাবে একদিন!
হায়! না মানুষ, না তার রক্ত স্বাধীন,
তবুও স্বাধীন আমাদের হতেই হবে,
সোনালী দিনের জন্য আমাদের আকুলতা চিরন্তন।
কিন্তু রক্তে ভেসে, লক্ষ লক্ষ জনকে বিদায় নিতে হচ্ছে চিত্রপট হতে।
ভাবি, মায়েরা যদি ভুয়ো মতাদর্শের মিথ্যা ফাঁদে জড়িয়ে থাকে,
কিভাবে স্বাধীন হবে সন্তান?
সর্বব্যাপী ধ্বংসের মধ্যে আমি দেখি শুধু একটা পতাকা,
একটা একলা, নির্জীব খুঁটির পাশে
হেলে পড়ে আছে যা,
যাকে ঘিরে ধীর পায়ে ঘুরপাক খাচ্ছে কিছু কঙ্কাল,
শুনি তাদের নির্বাক সুর,
স্বাধীনতা ভালোবাসি
ভালোবাসি স্বাধীন হয়ে বাঁচতে।
Tamali Neogi
Freedom
Man, your shoulders heavily loaded,
hands and face, smeared with soot, sluggishly you move,
inching forward our nations to mirror the gilded words of the Preamble.
Neither the man, nor is his blood free.
Yet free we must be,
the yearning for the golden world persists!
But besmeared in blood, millions are carried off the scene.
If mothers are caught in the vicious trap of fake ideology,
could children ever be free?
In the vast wilderness, I see
only a flag,
drooping against a barren pole,
around which I see some skeletons,
drifting in slow circles;
and hear muted intoning.
Freedom we love,
we love to be free.
Translation: Tamali Neogi
***
Galego/Galicisch/Galician
Que é a liberdade?
Que é a liberdade?
Preguntáronse decenas e decenas de filósofos
ao longo do tempo.
A mesma pregunta que se fai un cativo que está aprendendo
e coñecendo por primeira vez o mundo, a vida.
A mesma pregunta que se fai un adolescente bébedo ás catro da madrugada
e a mesma que se formula a señora que se levanta todos os días,
ás cinco da mañá,
para deixar ao fillo cos pais,
para ir a limpar casas que non son a súa,
por un soldo que non cobre o seu alugueiro compartido con dúas universitarias
na flor
da vida, na que se pasarán todo o tempo traballando para seguir preguntándose:
que é ser libre?
Laura Paz Fentanes
O xornal da Galicia que vén – Praza Pública
What is freedom?
What is freedom?
Dozens and dozens of philosophers have asked themselves
over time.
The same question that a child, who is learning
and experiencing for the first time the world and life, asks.
The same question that a drunk teenager asks himself at four in early morning
and the same question that the woman who gets up every day,
at five in the morning,
to leave her child with her parents,
to go clean houses that are not hers,
for a salary that does not cover her shared rent with two university students
in the prime of
life, in which they will spend all their time working to continue asking themselves:
what is it to be free?
Translation: Laura Paz Fentanes
***
Galego/Galicisch/Galician
Liberdade
Non é nada, a túa morte, pequeno palestino,
cuxo nome nin sequera podo pronunciar…
Hai algunha palabra
menos manchada de destrución,
de sufrimento e sangue,
que liberdade?
O redobre dos tambores resoa sen cesar,
as guerras xa non se declaran,
pero continúan.
As bandeiras ízanse ou arríanse,
vitoria ou opresión,
só o tempo o sabe.
Oh, liberdade,
onde estás en Gaza,
en Irán, en Afganistán etc.?
Tampouco para ti
hai liberdade nin paz.
Vas enviar unha autofoto a Facebook
antes de morrer de fame,
sen liberdade nin paz?
Germain Droogenbroodt, see translation Vrieheit: Zeêuws-Vlaams feêst van Vier je eigen taal – Frysk en Frij
Tradución ao galego de/translation into Galician: Laura Paz Fentanes
***
Libertas perfundet omnia luce
Lucretius (ca. 99-55 before Chr.)
Aquell balcó sense barana;
l’equilibri , la corda fluixa;
no fer cabal del risc de caure;
de la basarda fer-ne empenta;
lliçó de franc del paralímpic;
L’infant al bosc, por continguda;
drecera al riu per fresques baumes;
tots enfilats dalt d’una branca;
comunitat i pertinença;
compartir el dol, el llit, la taula;
la seva pell, els fills, ses cares.
També el carrer a l’inexplicable;
anar endavant sense arribar-hi;
l’intuició, l’error, la xamba;
el goig suprem de la paraula;
l’amor del Crist, dolor de mare;
camí del Tao, déu de Spinoza;
Ars Magna en Llull, versos de Lorca;
Gaudí, Vivaldi, la Szymborska;
la traça i l’urc de l’Eise Eisinga;
Newton, Curie i Leeuwenhoek;
l’agrimensor a Mesopotàmia;
un pescador amb les arts calades.
El Pirineu d’aigües glaçades;
fauna al Negev, flora a Karèlia;
l’oceà immens, veler que el solca;
bateg del peix entre les aigües;
cavall que en sap, com ningú, d’herbes;
deixar que parli el bri de gespa;
escoltar al fong, al cuc i l’heura;
i fer cabal al relat dels altres;
Fer de la fam tres plats al dia;
canviar la ràbia en esperança;
els ansiolítics en amor;
de les casernes fer-ne escoles;
convertir els bancs, tots, en teatres;
les multinacionals en kioscs;
tots els emblemes en quincalla;
qualsevol droga en poesia;
les pantalles en art i en llibres;
la guerra en diàleg i justícia;
els arsenals en hospitals,
i les presons en biblioteques.
Ignasi Ripoll
Ignasi Ripoll – Rixt – Frysk dichterskollektyf
Twa kaligrammen fan Ignasi Ripoll – Rixt – Frysk dichterskollektyf
***
Հայերեն/Hayerēn/Armeens/Armenian
ԹԱՆԿ
Սիրելիներին ամենաթանկ ենք նվիրում:
Իմ ամռանը նվիրեցի ազատությունս.
վերցրեց ու ինչ-որ բան ասաց ժպտուն:
-Չհասկացա, ամա՛ռ, կրկնի՛ր, խնդրեմ…
-Կրկնե՞լ: Ամառը չի կրկնում ոչինչ,-
աշնան քայլերն էին:
Երբ շրջվեցի, տեսա նրան աշնան գրկում…
Որտե՞ղ է ազատությունը իմ:
Armenuhi Sisyan
Setu 🌉 सेतु: Armenuhi Sisyan (Armenia)
Precious
To our loved ones we give what is dearest.
To my summer I gave my freedom.
It caught it lightly,
murmured something with a smile.
‘‘I didn’t understand, summer,
could you repeat once more?”
“Once more? Summer repeats nothing’’, –
whispered autumn’s approaching steps.
When I turned,
I saw it held in autumn’s arms…
Where is my freedom?
Translation: Armenuhi Sisyan
***
***
Lu Sicilianu, Lingua Siciliana/Sisiliaans/Sicilian
Libbirtà libbirtà…
Libbirtà libbirtà…
chiamannu vàiu
ma rresta u schigghju nchiusu
dintra a l’arma
comu nu scrusciscrusci ‘i picciriddu
ca la naca addummisci
e lu fissìa.
A Terra nsanguniata ri li verri,
genti e gintuzzi
pillirini spersi
ca u putenti pistìa
comu li vestii…
carziri e mazza!
Ggiustìzzia
Libbirtati
cuntanu zzeru,
cà li liuna ficiru cumacca,
la rrobba si sucaru
e u çiatu ’i tutti
e nui,
l’occhi cusuti
ri social e ri Tv
ri App e IA,
frasturnati l’aricchi
u cori mortu
la ucca ca ciaulìa,
sdillinïati
iemu campannu
comu strasannati.
E mischinedda
la Natura
ri ddroni ncupunata
e mmissili vastasi
tra li manu ni mori rispirata.
Libbirtà libbirtà…
chiamannu vàiu
ma u schigghju sduna
ntra li caseddi di nu cimiteru,
çiuri pizzïatu
scarsu d‘umuri e
aduri.
Maria Nivea Zagarella
userhome.brooklyn.cuny.edu/bonaffini/dp/zagarella.htm
Italian
Libertà libertà…
Libertà libertà…
chiamando vado
ma resta il grido chiuso
dentro l’anima
come sonaglino di bimbo
che la culla illude
e addormenta.
La Terra insanguinata dalle guerre,
popoli piccoli e grandi
pellegrini disorientati
che il potente divora e calpesta
come le bestie…
carcere e mazza!
Giustizia
Libertà contano
zero,
ché lega sordida fecero i leoni
e i beni si sono succhiati di tutti
e il fiato,
e noi,
gli occhi cuciti
di social e di Tv
di App e IA,
stordite le orecchie
il cuore morto
la bocca che ciarla,
sfasati
andiamo vivendo
come gli smemorati.
E la Natura
di cupole di droni soffocata e missili criminali
fra le mani ci muore,
misera, disperata.
Libertà libertà…
chiamando vado
ma fra le fosse di un cimitero
vaga correndo il grido,
fiore spezzettato
spoglio d’umori e/ odore.
Italian translation: Maria Nivea Zagarella
Liberty, Liberty…
Liberty, Liberty,
I keep repeating
but my scream remains shut
inside my soul
like a noisemaker on a cradle
that lulls children
to sleep.
The Earth is bloodied by war,
people young and old,
disoriented pilgrims,
that the mighty devour and trample on,
like animals…
prisons and clubs!
Justice,
Freedom counts
for nothing,
for the lions made a sordid pact
and they sucked up the wealth
and breath of everyone
and we,
our eyes transfixed
on social media and TV
on Apps and AI,
with our ears stunned,
our hearts in shock,
our mouths muttering
bewildered thoughts
go on living,
like mindless people.
And Nature,
suffocated by swarms of drones
and outrageous missiles,
dies in our hands,
in deep despair.
Liberty, liberty…
I keep on yelling
but my scream hovers above
the graves inside a cemetery,
like a broken flower,
devoid of life
and smell.
Translation: Gaetano Cipolla
***
Lu Sicilianu, Lingua Siciliana/Sisiliaans/Sicilian
Staciuni persa
E chi mi lassa sta staciuni persa ri suli
e vrami
stritti ntôn cori
ca nta l’acqua affuca?
Libbirtà schifïata…
Sbota lu mari l’unni e l’arrimina,
la vuci surda ca mi tagghia i vini.
Curri la vita, curri… unni s’assuma
si tantu ‘i genti sdirrignata mori
ntra fami e verri
lastimi e pinìu
ntôn munnu tortu
ca manìa lu rriccu
e appuzza lu mischinu
senza nnomu né locu
o junta (nìcila) ri pietati?
Libbirtà schifïata!
Maria Nivea Zagarella
Stagione perduta
E che mi lascia questa stagione perduta di sole
e acuti lamenti
in un cuore soffocati
che nell’acqua annega?
Libertà disprezzata…
Volta e rivolta il mare le onde
la voce sorda che mi taglia le vene.
Corre la vita, corre… dove si ammassa
se tanta gente sradicata muore
fra fame e guerre
gemiti e penare
in un mondo distorto
che maneggia il ricco
e il misero soccombe
senza nome né luogo
o manciata (gracile) di pietà?
Libertà oltraggiata!
Italian translation: Maria Nivea Zagarella
Lost season
So what’s left for me of this sunny season
and painful woes
that constrain my heart
that’s drowning in the water?
Trampled freedom…
The sea churns the waves
over and over,
a silent voice that cuts my veins.
Life runs, it runs to where it forms a mound
if so many people are uprooted and die
from famine and from war
lament and suffering
in a world gone mad
run by the wealthy
while the poor people succumb
nameless, homeless,
without a bit of compassion?
Trampled freedom!
Translation: Gaetano Cipolla