Tuesday, November 11, 2008
One of my favourite statues, out of the many dotted around the public garden, is this one of Virgilio Giotti (1885 -1957), the greatest poet in Triestinian dialect. The themes prevailing in his marvellous poetry are landscapes, his family, time and death, and they are beautifully rendered thanks to the musical soul he finds in the Triestinian dialect.
Vardo 'na strada de la mia zità,
cha ghe sarò passado mile volte,
e no' me par de averla vista mai.
Le fazzade zalete, le boteghe,
un bar, dei àuti, e el fiatin de viavai.
Come la nostra vita, sì: vissuda,
finida ormai, e mai ben conossuda
I look along a street in my city,
one I must have passed a thousand times,
and I feel as if I've never seen it before.
The yellow facades, the shops
a bar, a few cars, and a quiet bustling.
Like our lives, indeed: lived,
almost over now, but never really known.