In this installment we're featuring the Neapolitan poetry of Eduardo De Filippo.
‘O Cunto
Di Eduardo De Filippo (from ‘A Vita, 1970)
Cielo
ca puntualmente
‘o mes’’austo
abbremmecato
‘e stelle
te presiente,
e ca te faie
cchiù blù
pecché
cchiù argiento
cchiù splendente
e brillante
sti meliune
‘e stelle
‘ann’’a paré…
Cielo,
tu saie che ssí
pe chistu munno,
pe nnuie ca t’aspettammo
e te vedimmo?
sí ‘o finale
‘e nu cunto
ca nuie stesse ammentammo,
e sulitariamente
c’’o core
e c’’o penziero
nce cuntammo.
Cumme se specchia a mmare
dint’’o scuro
‘o ffuoco d’’e granate!
Se spara p’a custiera,
tuorno tuorno…
Pe San Giuvanne,
Puortece,
Resina,
Torre ‘o Grieco,
Pumpei,
Castellammare…
‘A rimpetto
Risponne
Vico Equense,
Sant’Agnello,
Surriento…
Aret’’a na muntagna
nu bagliore:
spara Massa Lubrense.
Marciano pure spara…
E appriesso appriesso
Sant’Agata
Crapolla
Pusitano…
Spara Furore
Vietri
e sparano a Praiano.
Cielo,
sò ‘e stelle noste,
sò ‘e pparole mbrugliate
‘e nu discorso
ca sultanto sparanno
trova ‘o filo,
pe te da segno ‘e vita
pure nuie…
E ogn’anno,
‘o mes’’austo,
puntualmente
ognuno conta ‘o cunto
o modo suio…
The Story
Sky
That punctually
In the month of August
Swarming with
Stars
You present yourself
And that becomes more blue
Because
More silvery
More resplendent
More shiny
These millions
Of stars
Must appear…
Sky,
Do you know you are
For this world,
For us who wait for you
And see you?
You’re the end
Of a story
That we ourselves invent,
And alone
With our hearts
And with our thoughts
We tell it to ourselves.
How the fire of the fireworks
Is reflected in the sea
In the dark!
They’re shooting off along the Coast,
All around…
By San Giovanni,
Portici,
Resina,
Torre del Greco,
Pompei,
Castellammare…
Across the way
Respond
Vico Equense,
Sant’Agnello,
Sorrento…
Behind a mountain
A glare:
Massa Lubrense is firing.
Marciano too fires…
And one after another
Sant’Agata
Crapolla
Positano…
Furore fires
Vietri
And they’re firing in Praiano.
Sky,
They’re our stars,
They’re the garbled words
Of a conversation
Which only in firing off
Finds the sense,
To give you a sign of life
We too…
And every year,
In the month of August,
Punctually
Everyone tells his story
In his way…
Translated by Cav. Charles Sant’Elia
* Self-published in 2010, Meridiunalata/Southernade is a treasury of poems gleaned from Cav. Sant'Elia's previous collections (Nchiuso dint''o presente, 'A cuntrora, and 'O pino e l'éllera), which were circulated among friends in New York City and Naples. Special thanks to Cav. Sant'Elia for allowing us to reprint his poetry and translations.
