pic from Lady-Bug
This poem below was dedicated to you from a blog in Piedmontese, the language you grew up with.
You are flattered, it’s about a walk by two small lakes, the vegetation, and the silent of nature.
You can read the Italian translation here..
You’re not going to translate it any further than that.
Piemontes is a dying language, a dialect which got bred out of the people by an aggressive campaign by the fascist regime in Italy, 1920s-1945.
At that time all dialects were forbidden, people were forced to speak Italian and nothing else.
Some regions had it tougher than others, but the general attitude was to standardise communication and culture. Mono-culturing a, back then, 60 years old nation.
Still, you are one of the lucky ones, in remote villages of the lowlands and up in the mountains the language persisted. When you went to school at the age of 6 you didn’t know that what you were using to communicate with family and friends wasn’t Italian at all, but a dying language.
There is hardly anything on the web in Piedmontese, so, total respect to the author of this blog.
‘I moment rair ‘a son per chi a sa’ gostesie
Moment rair
E marcio ant un sentètra le rive ëd doi laghett;
I branch dle piante an fan da vòlta!
e a l’è incredibil, ël silensi.
I è nen ën fil d’aria,niente a bogia,
mach ij mei pensè.
L’aqua inmobil smia na lastra,
në specc verd ch’a riflett ël verd;
a l’è incredibil ël silensi.
Tra le feuje ch’a smio spade
spico bin le pane ëd Tifa,
pontin maròn tra tanto verd;
l’è incredibil ël silensi!
Scoto ël silensi… e fisso il veuid.
ën ven la veuja ‘d lasseme andè,
e casche…casche sensa romor,
sensa fin; ën drinta ‘n mond ovatà ,
fait con jë smens madur dle Tife.
Ant un silensi…. incredibil
