We live in a time when the truth is something that can be changed, dressed up in blinding colours…
| LA VERITÀ Trilussa La Verità che stava in fonno ar pozzo Una vorta strillò: – Correte, gente, Chè l’acqua m’è arivata ar gargarozzo! – La folla corse subbito Co’ le corde e le scale: ma un Pretozzo Trovò ch’era un affare sconveniente. – Prima de falla uscì – dice – bisogna Che je mettemo quarche cosa addosso Perchè senza camicia è ‘na vergogna! Coprimola un po’ tutti: io, come prete, Je posso dà’ er treppizzi, ar resto poi Ce penserete voi… – M’assoccio volentieri a la proposta – Disse un Ministro ch’approvò l’idea. – Pe’ conto mio je cedo la livrea Che Dio lo sa l’inchini che me costa; Ma ormai solo la giacca È l’abbito ch’attacca. – Bastò la mossa; ognuno, Chi più chi meno, je buttò una cosa Pe’ vedè’ de coprilla un po’ per uno; E er pozzo in un baleno se riempì: Da la camicia bianca d’una sposa A la corvatta rossa d’un tribbuno, Da un fracche aristocratico a un cheppì. Passata ‘na mezz’ora, La Verità, che s’era già vestita, S’arrampicò a la corda e sortì fôra: Sortì fôra e cantò: – Fior de cicuta, Ner modo che m’avete combinata Purtroppo nun sarò riconosciuta! | THE TRUTH Trilussa The Truth that lay at the bottom o’ the well Once wailed “Come quick, folks, The water’s almost reached my craw!” Without delay, to his aid the throng went With ropes and ladders: but a Priestlin’ found the situation hardly fittin’. “Before we let ‘im out,” he says, “we best Put sumpin’ on ‘im Because shirtless he’s a disgrace! Let’s cover ‘im up: I, being a priest, Can give ‘im my biretta, as for the rest Yous all do it yourself… “I gladly second the proposal,” Said a Minister who approved the idea, “I, for one, can give ‘im my regalia Lord knows the curtsyin’ it costs me; But by now even a jacket Is costume enough.” The action did suffice: everyone, More or less, threw somethin’ on ‘im To try an’ cover ‘im up; And before long the well was full to the brim: From the bride’s white gown To the tribune’s red cape, From a fine frock coat to a kepi. In thirty-minute’s time, The Truth, who was by now fully dressed, Climbed up the rope and out o’ the well: He surfaced and cried: “Holy moly The way you’ve decked me out Sadly no one will recognise me! Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2025 |
The poem La verità is from the collection Trilussa, Tutte le poesie, Arnaldo Mondadori Editore, 1963, pp 350-351. The image is Trilussa’s, a self-portrait I find wonderful.
I always comment on the things I translate, which I choose depending on my mood, but the poem is comment enough: the truth has been lost, covered up in dollar signs and designer goods, and those who could express it are often silenced (today, even killed); so I’ll leave it to Trilussa. – M. C.
This work is protected under https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/
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parallel texts: words reflected 
Thank you for reminding us of Trilussa’s great poem/fable…and truth, first published in 1911. Trilussa should be translated in every language that exists and taught in every school, and maybe, maybe things will change for the better. Arolà.
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I totally agree!
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