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In particular, this oc- curs when we read: and not when we read what was thought by the author at the time of his writing, but when we read what is being thought now by we who read. Translation takes place in the very act of reading. The spirit spo- ken of has a historical reality, grown on and out of itself, forever changing.

That then this original vibration resonates in a new man, and brings forth feelings and thoughts that are always new, is something that I have never doubted and in which I am in complete agreement with Gentile. Croce Croce chooses to distinguish here between two moments that are complementary to each other: the moment of reading and the moment of new creation. Gentile had stated instead, as we have already mentioned, that repetition is impossible.

For Gentile, these two moments are at the same time not simply different, but inseparable. One must think of them as supplementary to each other. Just as the historical, immortal Dante supplies and supplants us as readers, so do we supply and sup- plant the Dante of the Middle Ages. And in so doing, this Dante displaces us, expands us, make us grow out of ourselves. It is plausible that no translation, however good it may be, can have any significance as regards the original.

Yet, by virtue of its translatability the original is closely connected with the translation; in fact this connection is all the closer since it is no longer of importance to the original. Just as the manifestations of life are intimately connected with the phenomenon of life without being of importance to it, a translation issues from the original— not so much from its life as from its afterlife. For a translation comes later than the original, and since the important works of world literature never find their translator at the time of their origin, their translation marks their stage of continued life.

The idea of life and afterlife in works of art should be regarded with an entirely unmetaphorical objectivity. Yet actualism is not reducible to a simple presence: the substitution in place of the original. In this way the direction we take is not from Dante to the reader of Dante, such that the reader becomes a metaphor for and of Dante who now makes himself present which is the danger that Croce saw.

In the same way, it is also true that we the readers are not making ourselves present be- fore Dante the writer. This raises more questions about the direc- tion of metaphors. In translation, we are no longer moving between language and its extralinguistic referent, but we are mov- ing sideways, so to speak, from one linguistic entity to another lin- guistic entity.

The concern is no longer with meaning but with an interlinguistic movement. Meaning is entirely imbedded in the origi- nal work, and we can leave it there. In the final analysis, the range of life must be determined by history rather than by nature, least of all by such tenuous factors as sensation and the soul. Benjamin 71 Also any linguistic creation should be translatable even if no one is capable of translating it at any given time There is implied in this a maturing process where the growth of the original language corresponds to the development of the language of translation.

Recalling what we discussed above, the afterlife of a work of art should be determined by history rather than by nature, unaffected by factors such as sensation and the soul. Unlike a work of literature, translation does not find itself in the center of the language forest but on the outside facing the wooded ridge; it calls into it without entering, aiming at the sole spot where the echo is able to give, in its own language, the reverberation of the work in the alien one.

Translation turns language inside out. It breaks the walls of safety in which the subject finds itself protected, cared for, yet incarcerated. In this way, translation destabilizes. It reveals the instability of the original. It disarticulates the original, says de Man, for whom critical philosophy, literary theory, history—resemble each other in the fact that they do not resemble that from which they derive. But they are all intralinguistic: they relate to what in the original belongs to language, and not to meaning as an extralinguistic correlate susceptible of paraphrase and imitation.

They disarticulate, they undo the original, they reveal that the original was always already disarticulated. They reveal that their failure, which seems to be due to the the fact that they are secondary in relation to the original, reveals an essential failure, an essential disarticulation which was already there in the original. They kill the original, by discovering that the original was already dead. Let us recall once more that in translation sensation and the soul should not play a role. But this pain that generates is not hu- man.

Gentile agrees with this. Yet this formal use of language brings the messianic with it. Every possible shortcoming perceived in a work of translation can now be overcome by this achieved higher knowledge of the work- ings of language. The words we now read are, in a sense, not human. Vico stated that in language, man begins to think humanly New Science , but this does not imply that there is meaning before and outside language before meaning is materialized linguistically.

Language is his- torical, and it is used by the men who have it as their dwelling place without their being in control of, nor their being identified, with it. The Dante Gentile speaks of gets grafted in the now-language of the reader, and such a translation occurs first of all within the Italian language in which Dante wrote. In this pro- cess the reader who captures Dante becomes captured by Dante, and thus by the Italian language already many languages , in the uniqueness of the only Language humans speak.

Gentile, contrary to Benjamin, seems apparently to need to preserve the intentional- ity not only in the meaning but also in the mode of signification of a language in the hands of an all-encompassing subject. This subject is still blind to its condition by uncon- sciously accepting its blindness. This allows the subject to think it has built its own fortress-house. This trans- lation of the inside is possible in the first place because of its insta- bility, says Benjamin [A]ll translation is only a somewhat provisional way of coming to terms with the foreignness of languages.

An instant and final rather than a temporary and provisional solution of this foreignness remains out of the reach of mankind; at any rate, it eludes any direct attempt. Although translation, unlike art, cannot claim permanence for its products, its goal is undeniably a final, conclusive, decisive stage of all linguistic creation.

It cannot live there permanently, to be sure, and it certainly does not reach it in its entirety. Yet, in a singular impressive manner, at least it points the way to this region: the predestined, hitherto inaccessible realm of reconciliation and fulfillment of languages. The transfer can never be total, but what reaches this region is that element in a translation which goes beyond transmittal of subject matter. This nucleus is best defined as the element that does not lend itself to translation. Even when all the surface content has been extracted and transmitted, the primary concern of the genuine translator remains elusive.

The original can only be raised there anew and at other points in time. For Gentile, the original as well as every provisional appropriation work like relays: they are like switches through which each meaning triggers a new meaning, leading ever and ever closer to a new level of signi- fication. It seems that for Gentile that predestined region of fulfill- ment and reconciliation of languages is reachable, and its unstable terrain is left unaccounted for. Gentile sees no disjunction between any of these multiplying steps toward that region, but rather an implied continuity that imitates life: a life where a living body grows in time and space.

Yet in this process, that body the original poem never gets old but is forever rejuvenating. Gentile stresses a sort of messianic aspect of language that is nonetheless manmade, and not a God-given gift—like a messianism without a religion. There is no bro- ken vessel to reconstitute. There is a chain of metaphors that, by actualizing themselves in a new meaning, relay to a higher region their growth in the form of a new metaphor.

The problem of the unstable original is bypassed by this provisional appropriation of an original work of art. The move is presented as the most natural operation of reading. In this process of endless redressing, Gentile necessarily sus- pends the original work of art, holding it outside the intra-linguis- tic relation and protecting its wholeness from revealing its met- onymic status.

Ultimately, the subject is defined by the fortress- house, which it might have built, but of which it was never the king. This subject can only find itself already made into the Kafkaesque animal that it does not know. The translator must be recep- tive to the disruptions already at work in the original language of the work of art that translation reveals; and the translator must ulti- mately make room for this disruption in the language of transla- tion, which painfully grows and expands in a non-human manner. Gentile conceives of the art of translation as an hermeneutics.

And translation is indeed an act of reading: in reading Dante, I become the new Dante, Gentile says— a Dante infinitely more complex than the original writer who wrote in the s. Thus I get in touch with what was repressed, covered up, hidden in the specific material language of the original work. There is no text with- out a reader who brings the text to life in its afterlife: an afterlife that is a new and continued life with a higher and enhanced level of understanding and fulfillment of the subjectivity of the one who reads.

Translation is itself a translation first and fore- most of our own words as we proffer them. Now, in my actual speak- ing of my language I am actually translating within my very lan- guage already many languages , in the uniqueness of the only Lan- guage humans speak. Translation acts itself out as translation: a mise en abyme that is noted in Benjamin as well de Man The ultimate task of the translator is to read the unreadable. It is to deal with a writing that writes what is never meant to read, what is unreadable—like graphemes for speech.

Graphemes in writ- ing are taken for granted, yet they are the keepers of a promise of meaning. For Gentile, to speak is to write since speech has all the prerogatives of writing. What Gentile says is, all at once, what is being said and the confirmation of what is being said. In repetition lies the novelty. In order to do this, the saying must be recognizable and repeatable— even if this may mean that the saying is recognizable by itself as a language that in turn recognizes itself as it speaks.

The historical continuity between the then and the now postulated by Gentile is marked by the univocity that indicates the historical ether, accord- ing to Husserl Derrida, Husserl The platonic mimetic relationship between image and speech will end up with writing occupying the last and hum- blest place within the chain of signification. Grammars always follow language in an attempt to stabilize what is already in itself destabilized. In this sense, grammar shares the same project of translation: the materialization of language. In fact, the arbitrariness of each and every grammar is what Gentile has to reconcile with the spirituality of language.

The metaphorical sequence of replacement gets interrupted. When we translate, we open up all options of signification out of an original restricted referentiality. From here on, there is no way to orient ourselves any longer. Benjamin clearly says so. Otherwise grammar coincides with language and language with translation. Indeed, Gentile—and here is a paradox—says this much. The con- sequence is the killing of the originality of any origin.

Since Plato, writing has been the sign of a sign removed from truth, and this process is also at work always already in speech as we speak. I read, I say, I translate, therefore I reproduce all at once in an immediate iterability which is directly possible thanks to the me- chanical reproduction of any original sound bite, of any graph- eme playing within language. Benjamin himself addresses the mechanical reproduction of the work of art and the issue of the aura in The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. It haunts the original.

Again, Gentile speaks of Dante—a Dante read, spoken, translated, therefore forever re- produced anew in his afterlife. When we read—as when we read Dante—we have to reinvent what we read. Our reading must affirm the original; and our reading, in or- der to be affirmative, must confirm its originary reading. The I-then-there and the I- now-here underscore my singular signature: I-now-here reaffirm the I-then-there. Ultimately, I am not Ulysses either, I have respect for the past, I submit to what is in front of me: to what I am reading, to what I am repeating.

The first event must already be iterable, it must immediately confirm itself in differentiating itself by its now spo- ken iteration. Paradise This is achieved by charging every word, every sentence, with meanings, possibilities, associations. In reading Dante, we partake of the chains of confirmation. However, Gentile sees this trans- lation as an affirmation of the original.

Benjamin, Walter. New York: Schocken Books, Croce, Benedetto. Filosofia della pratica. Bari: La Terza, , Derrida, Jacques. Inven- tion of the Other. Kamuf, Peggy and Elizabeth Rottenberg, eds. Of Grammatology. Gentile, Giovanni. Lanciano: R. Carabba, Vico, Giambattista. New Science. Bergin, Thomas G.

Ithaca: Cornell University Press, Notes 1 Previously published in Rivista di cultura, a. The English translation from the Italian is mine throughout. Also reprinted in K. Vosseler et al. Benedetto Croce. Sansoni: Firenze, The translation from the French is mine throughout. In this sense to be in the closeness of Being means to be there where the metaphor retreats.

Derek Atridge, Ed. New york and London: Routledge, Francesco Petrarca Petrarch requires little introduction. Incomparable poet, in- novative Humanist, and brilliant scholar, his major works consist of the Rime sparse Rerum vulgarium fragmenta , I trioni, the Secretum, and numerous collections of letters. In the second, the mythological Arabian phoenix is compared to Laura and of course poetry itself— il lauro.

It includes a critical introduction, commen- tary, and a rich array of biographical and bibliographical informa- tion. It is based on the edition. Here we offer new versions, more focused on poetic harmony than literal meaning. The Venetian poetess takes up the themes of love and memory while renewing the emblem of the Arabian phoenix and the ship struggling at sea. These imita- tions were rendered in English and in Italian. The Italian version was co-translated with Antonella Anedda. The present version is more of a translation than an imitation.

Nevertheless attempts have been made to recreate corresponding meters, rhymes, and tones as well. Francesco Petrarca, Canzoniere XC Her aura was scattered in strands of gold which she had wound in countless knotted crowns, her lovely light-illed eyes, which have turned old, once burned beyond their source of greenish brown. It seemed compassion set her face aglow, I do not know if it was dreamt or real the fuse of love that lit me long ago though I should not wonder since I still feel. She did not move as any mortal thing but like angelic dawn, nor were her words dull sounding like a human, they seemed to sing like one celestial spirit, sun struck wings had touched her soul and voice which I irst heard and had they not, my wound would lose its sting.

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Cerulean edges of her violet dress, conceal her fair shoulders scattered with roses uniquely beautiful aura, novel guise. Fame still proclaims that her sweet scented breast in Arabian mountains hides and poses yet she lies so haughtily through our skies. What helmsman could steer his precious ship through tides as I have done, never afraid to wrestle the currents or cliffs, guiding my frail vessel amidst the battering blows of her harsh pride? And yet this rain of tears and fearsome winds of ininite sighs now drive my vessel on throughout my sea of winter and horrid night bestowing tedium to her, aches and chagrin to itself, nothing else, vanquished by strong sea surfs disarming sails to ungoverned might.

Oh night, worthy of praise by the highest and keenest of minds, not by my ecstasy. You brought him back to me with tenderness the one who each joy of mine has governed disarmed my doubts, dissolving all stubborn remains of bitterness with sheer sweetness. My game and my every delight consist of living ire and never feeling pain, of never caring if he who causes this relents the vehemence of his domain. Soon after the irst lame had burned away, then Love lit up another, which I feel with more intensity and greater sway.

A ire just like the irst I feel; if this, in such tight space, is now the case I fear it will be greater than the other. What can I do, if burning is my appeal, if voluntarily I consent to taste ill after ill, one ire after another? Durling, Harvard University Press, Annotazioni di Daniele Ponchiroli. Torino, Einaudi, , pp.

Borrelli Joan E. She has published essays of literary criticism in Critical Companion to J. Her work displays a full range of emotion as she reacts to challenges she faced as an orphan, wife, mother and widow.


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Her immediacy of voice and personal subject matter create not only an unprecedented feel for the struggles of women of her historical period, but also relect a sensibility almost modern in its confessional tone. During the next twelve years, Turini Bufalini continued to write and revise this work, which she describes in two sonnets3 as providing her with an outlet for her creativity as well as with much-needed consolation throughout her dificult life.

At the time of her death in , however, the poem remained unpublished. Over the centuries, the text of Il Florio was believed lost until, in the s, a manuscript was located among the family archives at the Bufalini castle in San Giustino Umbria. I am greatly indebted to Professor Antonio Lanza, Director of Letteratura Italiana Antica, for permission to reproduce the original, as well as for translation permissions. I extend my heartfelt thanks to Professor Natalia Costa-Zalessow San Fran- cisco State University , for her unlagging generosity in sharing her knowledge of Italian literary history with me.

Comment on the translation In Il Florio, Turini Bufalini utilizes ottava rima,6 the traditional stanza form of Italian narrative poetry, to recreate the story of two young innamorati, Florio and Biancoiore, as they labor to overcome obstacles to their love.

Video d'amore da dedicare : "LEI" di 4tu© (poesie d'amore recitate italian music 2017)

I was, however, labbergasted at her extensive use of text-within-text technique in the selection that follows. The two letters between the lovers, inserted verbatim into the narrative frame, heighten the realism and the emotional charge of the exchange and allow for close reader involvement. Ariosto does not show a response letter from Bradamante. Turini Bufalini, moreover, shows a response letter from Biancoiore comprising an additional fourteen stanzas nos. The two letters in Il Florio thus total an astonishing lines of text-within-text.

Although Turini Bufalini may not have been the irst to employ the technique, we are nonetheless seeing in her Canto XVI an early and signiicant use of meta-narration. On the one hand, I wanted my target language to capture the emotional spontaneity expressed in the letters of the young lovers. On the other hand, I vowed to keep faith with the formal metrics of the ottava and its elegant tone. The exciting atmo- sphere of a medieval tale—replete with chivalric knights, distressed damsels, court intrigues and feats of derring-do—demanded a broad action vocabulary. To parallel the hendecasyllabic lines of the original with stanzas that gallop forward, I charged ahead with iambic pentameter, the preferred meter of narrative verse in English.

To run the end-rhyme gauntlet, I relied on my anglophone steed, well equipped with slant rhyme, to echo the musical ring of the original when I did not have a full rhyme sound at the ready. To capture spontaneity, I reached for idiomatic expressions. Conversely, by inverting word order and pinning down a few archaisms here and there, I hoped to render some historical atmosphere and to move the translation closer to the source text.

To pay homage to the prosodic features of the original, I matched consonance and internal rhyme wherever I could. We come upon the scene with Florio in the distant city of Montorio, where he has been sent by his parents, the king and queen, in an effort to separate the lovers. Florio believes that Bian- coiore has jilted him for Fileno, an errant knight just arrived from Marmorina seat of the court where Biancoiore remains. The truth is that Biancoiore, against her will, was commanded by the queen to do so after Fileno won a tournament at court.

Now alone, Florio denounces Biancoiore as unfaithful seeing the veil as proof of her betrayal , and threatens to turn his sword against himself. Translations by Joan E. In sonnets numbered and , Turini Bufalini directly addresses the title character, Florio, of her eponymous narrative work, declaring to him that writing has remained her only consolation refugio through years of grief.

Not quite twenty-one years old, she married Count Giulio Bufalini then seventy years of age. With professional military duties in Rome, Giulio was absent for long periods. She subsequently gave birth to two sons and a daughter but was widowed at age thirty. Her maternal love and devotion, evident throughout her poems, is later coupled with the lament of not enjoying a reciprocal affection.

Her sons, upon reaching manhood, quarreled with her over money and litigated formally against her and against one another, as Giulio, the eldest, would retain future right of inheritance to the castle, whereas Ottavio, his younger brother, only the right to reside there. At age sixty-one, because of family discord, she left Umbria for Rome to take a post in the Colonna household as lady- in-waiting to the duchess, Lucrezia Tomacelli Colonna.

She returned to Umbria only upon the death of Tomacelli in Directed by Antonio Lanza. Rome: Moxedano Editrice. ISSN: electronic ; paper. This international journal is dedicated to texts and studies on Italian literature and is available for purchase on the internet. His Filostrato c. See also: J. For a short synopsis of the Filocolo, see: Giovanni Boccaccio, Antologia delle opere minori volgari, a cura di Giuseppe Gigli.

Nuova presentazione di Vittore Branca Firenze: Sansoni, : Torquato Tasso : Revered for his narrative poems, principally Gerusalemme Liberata pub. Turini Bufalini may have known Tasso personally during her residency in Rome at the Colonna household. My thanks go again to Professor Costa-Zalessow for indicating these passages to me.

He is often accompanied by his brothers Icelus who personiies beasts, birds, serpents and Phantasus who transforms himself into rocks, water, woods and inanimate objects along with 1, other male siblings in order to enact the dream. O mio dolore intenso, smisurato! O me infelice sopra gli altri amanti! O senza alcuna colpa abbandonato! O mia dura sventura!

Oh wretched me, more so than other lovers! Oh guiltless, thrust aside upon no grounds! Oh thing yet unseen in this universe! Oh my hard luck! Throughout his dream rested the unsheathed sword that he had drawn to run through his own breast, such was the reasoning so twisted, crude, against himself, its harm to manifest. But like a shield, hope lent him fortitude.

Without you I am good for naught, and neither would I live on: further, this blazing pyre, alas, now so consumes me, dram by dram, I feel myself transformed into pure lame! Finge egli teco! Io solo odio e disamo, per te, me stesso: e ne ricevo morte! Nothing can alter my desire—not fate, place, time, Fortune; neither can Love nor Death! Oh stars, you witnesses of my hard plight, reveal how I so fail and furthermore may die of keeping faith to cruel degrees with those nocturnal trysts and mournful cries! I alone hate and eschew myself for you, though death I would receive!

Joan E. My right hand, poised for death to end my grief, clutches the sword. The hurt he felt so struck his heart, so rent, he thought his certain death drew very near. Within the paper, his complaints he folded and called a servant, one faithful and shrewd, Be there by dark, and seek out Biancoiore. Hand her this envelope and wait, and then with her response hurry back here again! Bending to the importance of the charge, the servant swiftly takes leave of his lord and gets there on the double, for his passage and pace with loyalty and trust he spurred.

From me, the reason for his pain is hidden, and why he leads a life so sorrow-laden. Soon as she learned of all he would infer in what he wrote and what he left untold , and of his indignation and his anger— that his heart was by Jealousy controlled— cold fear, martyring anguish to endure, gripped her at heart and instantly took hold.

Those pages would have burned from sighs so searing, had not her tears kept them from disappearing! Repeatedly between choked sobs and tears, having read what he wrote, and read again, seeing fault of lovers ingenuous! As long as breath and life in me be found, let not Love pierce me with another wound! As this, my soul, within my lesh so frail, is spoil to dart diverse. Love cannot slay my breast that loves and prizes you alone , lest with your beauty his darts he would hone.

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To unravel our love she made provision and wove with craft, and perhaps proited. So cruel is she! By her I was betrayed, and by you, too, falling for traps she laid! Heaven well sees that when you sought your leave from me, my life turned hard, for I without a heart remained!


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You plucked it from my person when you abandoned me to pain, cruel one! By calling me ungrateful you then ind aire anew a means to skirt my blame! Mancar si sente in tal dolor la vita e la faccia ha tutta di pianto aspersa. Constant I know you; know, too, that a love constant for you does Biancoiore have! To live and die with you do I aspire! Let not that crude steel blade to you lay claim and cover you with an eternal shame! So pained, she felt that life itself receded, her face wholly awash in tearful sprays. Her pages folded, she expertly brought together and entwined the wax and knot.

Those crimson lips now parched from such distress, with her plentiful tears did she, the damsel, moisten the gem in order to impress her image, lovely, proud, upon the seal. Then, perturbed by an anger amorous, to carry back her answer does she call the messenger. Devoted, bowing low, off like an arrow shot straight does he go. Ha pubblicato diversi romanzi, narrative di viaggi e racconti sia in italiano che in inglese, tra i quali Tiro al piccione , ristampa , Peccato originale , Biglietto di terza , ristampa , Una posizione sociale , ristampa col titolo La stanza grande, , Grafiti , Molise Molise , Il tempo nascosto tra le righe , Detroit Blues , e i romanzi in inglese Benedetta in Guysterland , premio American Book Award, , Accademia , Il paese di Nonsisadove - romanzo telematico, websito arscomica.

Bergin, Salvatore Battaglia e, ultimamente, Robert Lafont. Bibliograia Azais, Gabriel. Beck, J. Die Melodien der Troubadours. Strasbourg, Broadbent, J. Poetic Love. London, Fernandez de la Cuesta, Ismael. Tolosa, Paris, Hill, R. New Haven and London, Margoni, Ivos. Milano-Varese, Angelo Monteverdi. Studi in onore di Angelo Monteverdi. Modena, Aurelio Roncaglia. La lingua dei trovatori. Roma, Maurice Valency. In Praise of Love. New York, Van der Werf, Hendrik. Utreck, Et ella lo fetz a gran honor sepeillir en la maison del Temple; e poi en aqel dia ella se rendet monga, per la dolor qe ella ac de la soa mort.

A cura di Robert Lafont. Casa Editrice Le Let- tere, Firenze , p. Io mi avvalgo per convalida e guida del Vo- cabolario ragionato del dialetto di Casacalenda, di Antonio Vincelli, Edizioni Enne, Campobasso, Also a novelist and literary critic, she founded and directs the only poetry prize for bilingual book publication for Italian American poets with Italian poet, Alfredo dePalchi. Ned Condini is a native-born Italian who has lived in the United States for many years, a fact that makes him thoroughly bi-lingual. Lafayette, Indiana, After all, it is a plant and I do love greenery.

Other plants wait for death to give lesh to roots. I resolve to become a vegetarian. But this Venus Fly Trap is too much for me. It will have to die tossed into the waste can with the bright red lipstick, the blood red nail polish. I no longer wear. She nods at us knowing we are lovers returning from paradise. Ho cercato di ricordare di darle acqua. Altre piante aspettano che la morte dia polpa alle radici. Propendo a farmi vegetariana. Questa dionea non fotosintetizza in pace.

Sta cercando di diventare un animale e io che cerco tanto di essere un albero non lo sopporto. Ci accenna sapendo che siamo amanti che tornano dal paradiso. Each falls asleep and wakes alone in a dream on a cold shore far from home, without shelter from wind, sun dark, cold, heat. I feel as a tiny breathing thing alone in a vast night no hand anywhere to hold mine. We wake into life sure of dying under the frozen sky and mute stars, glistening with winter light. We hold hands into new [years, knowing all new years turn old, and listen to the night, snow creaking in mounds, and the air iced from the [Northwind For the sake of the other, we do not say how each together is alone returning from paradise.

Ciascuno si addormenta e si sveglia solo in sogno su una spiaggia fredda lontano da casa, senza riparo da vento, sole, buio, freddo, calore. Mi sento un minuscolo oggetto che respira solo in una notte [immensa da nessuna parte una mano a tenere la mia. Ci destiamo alla vita sicuri di morire sotto il gelido cielo e stelle mute, che brillano di luce invernale. A few bleeding leaves fall amidst wilting greenery. Poison ivy turns red with warning.

My ninety-year-old mother still argues with my father, twenty years dead. Their hatred reverberates in a back room of my head, rattling recollections of a lonely childhood. Their loathing for each other colors all my days. I loved him, because he loved me best, but I look like her.

My face and spirit tear at each other. I am the child of hate. A weed sprouts from watery depths, uncultivated, lowers, white and purple, bloom, even in these days of dying leaves. Beyond winter, no one grieves. Italy, — d. America, ] written in Edna St. You died in spring, father, and now the autumn dies. Bright with ripe youth, dulled by time, plums of feeling leaked red juices from your eyes, blood hemorrhaged in pools to still your quivering mind.

Alcune foglie sanguinanti cadono sul verde che langue. Il loro reciproco disgusto colora tutti i miei giorni. Il mio volto e il mio spirito fanno a pugni. Sonetti americani per mio padre —per Donato Giosefi: scritti nello studio di Edna St. Vincent Millay Steepletop, N. Vivido di compiuta giovinezza, opacato dal tempo, prugne di affetto gocciavano dai tuoi occhi rosse essenze, sangue emorragiato in polle a calmare la tua trepida mente. In this russet November woods of Millay, I wear your old hat, Dear Italian patriarch, to see if I can think you out of your American grave to sing your unwritten song with me.

I carry your silenced poetry with your spirit. I take off your old black hat and sniff at it to smell the still living vapor of your sweat. You wore your heart and soles sore. At forty, not climbing autumn hills like me, you lay with lung [disease strapped down with morphine, hearing your breath rattle in your throat like keys at the gates of hell. Your body was always a iend perplexing your mascu [line will. You illed me with pride, and immigrant tenacity.

So be it. You are done, unfulilled by song [except in me. If your dreams are mine, live again, breathe in me and [be. In questi boschi di Millay, novembrini, rugginosi, sfoggio il tuo vecchio cappello, caro patriarca Italiano, per vedere se posso pensarti fuori della tua tomba americana a cantare con me la tua mai scritta canzone. Col tuo spirito reco la tua poesia fatta muta. Mi tolgo il tuo vecchio cappello e lo annuso per odorare il sudore che esala, ancora vivo.

Lavoravi come un mulo, il maggiore di troppi igli, un [magrolino in zuava frusta che negli Anni Ruggenti zoppicava su per i gradini della city, di porta in porta con carichi di giornali del mattino e serali, ciascuno contato un misero soldo sudato per mantenere la famiglia. Ti logorasti il cuore e le suole. Il tuo corpo fu sempre un briccone impastoiante il tuo [volere di maschio.

Mi riempisti di orgoglio e tenacia di immigrante. E va bene. Hai concluso, adempiuto nel canto [solo in me. Se i tuoi sogni sono miei, vivi di nuovo, respira e esisti in [me. Tu non capisti mai la trama americana. Good night, go gently, tired immigrant father full of pride and propriety.

We, your three daughters, all grew to be healthier, stronger, more American than you. The wound that will not heal in me is the ache of dead sensibility. Once full of history, philosophy, poetry, physics, astronomy, your bright, high-lying psyche is now dispersed, set free from your tormented body, but the theme you offered, often forlorn, sheer luminescent soul, glistened with enough light to carry us all full-grown.

The sky was falling. God bless Daddy! God bless spaghetti! When they laughed, I learned I had a pen for a tongue that could please. Buona notte, viaggia remissivo, stanco padre immigrante pieno di correttezza e orgoglio. Autobiograia incompiuta per mia iglia scritta nel , durante la prima Guerra del Golfo Nacqui nel Il cielo stava precipitando.

Dio benedica la pasta! Quando risero seppi che per lingua avevo una penna che dava piacere. Are you wearing one? Twenty and virginal when raped one midnight in a jail cell by an angry Klansman, Deputy Sheriff of Montgomery County, Alabama—only law for miles around Selma. Ne porti uno? Ventenne e vergine fui stuprata una mezzanotte in una cella di prigione da un rabido Klansman, il vice sceriffo della Contea Montgomery, Alabama—unica legge per miglia nei dintorni di Selma.

My greatest moment of joy came in a near death—not when jailed by the Klans- man, but when giving birth to you who came by emergency Cesarean, bright with hope, lovely daughter; do you hear the ambulance of guilt, grieving in your near death birth, the re- birth of your mother, your moment of almost not being new life greeting me in your eyes, my eyes peering back at me, questioning, after the fever [subsided.

Are they yours, Daughter? I edit a book, On Prejudice: A Global Perspective, of xenophobia, ethnocentrism, sexism, racism, and hate the nuclear and oil barons who are your enemy. We cannot love without enemies who bond us together in love—Freud said— unless we see that avarice pours our own garbage and debris back upon us— Smothering us with mutual enemy.

Our oil, nuclear, chemical, and germ warfare proiteers hold us all hostage, you, me, and them, to the screams of skulls with their forever gold teeth, lampshades of skin, their ears are ours illed with a siren of guilt from the history book of corpses. It talks to autumn, Daughter. Its splendor makes us sing. Un sottile ilo di vita goccia sulla pagina mentre i miei occhi diventano gli occhi di un altro: Sono i tuoi, Figlia?

Metto insieme un libro, Sul Pregiudizio: Una Prospettiva [Globale, di xenofobia, etnocentrismo, sexismo, razzismo, e odio i baroni nucleari e del petrolio che sono i tuoi nemici. Il suo splendore ci fa cantare. Only middle age girth makes me look maternal. Menopause has left not one kernel of hope in my old ovaries. Oggi, non vengo o spero di divenire incinta, nessun bimbetto scalpicciante in arrivo.

La menopausa non ha lasciato un briciolo di speranza nelle mie vecchie ovaie. It, too, possesses a navel for seeing the world through the skin, has rounded buttocks, good to place against the hand the way earth reminds lesh of its being. Through the eye of the needle, death is a country where people wonder and worry what it is like to live. The sullen wish to live and live soon, to be done with death and the happy want to stay dead forever wondering: will it hurt to live and is there death after death?

Near Bari and Brindisi where the ferry has travelled the Adriatico, to and from Greece for centuries. How strange to view you, piccolo villaggio, with ladybugs, my talisman, landed on my shirt. Ladybugs rest on me at the dig of stone sculptures the Belgian professor shows me. You never returned to your ancient land where now the [natives, simpatici pisani, wine and dine me in their best ristorante. I insist on paying the bill. They give me jars of funghi and pimento preserved in olive oil—their prize produce to take back home with me.

They nod knowingly, when in talking of you, I must leave the table to weep— alone in the restroom, looking into the mirror at the eyes you gave me, the hands so like yours that turn the brass faucet and splash cold water over my face. For an instant, in this foreign place, I have met you again, Father, and have understood better, your labors, your struggle, your pride, your humility, the peasantry from which you came to cross the wide sea, to make me a poet of New York City.

Which is truly my home? Mi mostrano il tuo certiicato di nascita— Donato Giosefi, nato nel — scarabocchiato a penna, su carta che ingiallisce. Quando gli dico che sono una scrittrice, prima della [famiglia americana a ritornare alla casa paterna, di colpo sono nobile! Coccinelle riposano su di me allo scavo di sculture in pietra che il professore belga mi mostra. Non ritornasti mai alla tua terra vetusta dove i nativi, simpatici paesani, mi dan da mangiare e bere nel loro ristorante migliore.

Insisto a pagare il conto. This home where you would have [been happier and better understood than in torturous Newark tenements [of your youth. This land of sunlight, blue sky, pink and white lowers, [white stucco houses, and poverty, mezzogiorno, this warmth you left to make me a poet from New York City, indifferent place, mixed of every race, so that I am more cosmopolitan than these, your villagers, or you could ever dream of being.

This paradoxical journey back to a lost generation gone forever paving the way into a New World from the Old. Maria Lisella has been an editor and journalist for most of her life and has covered the travel industry, a profession that has taken her to dozens of countries. Her work appears online at FOXNews.

Bound; Bible and silk thread. To bring poetry to people is her mission: for 36 years she has successfully hosted the radio program The Poet and the Poem. In , when the blood of the U. She opened the microphone to the city inviting poets, non-poets, ordinary citizens to share their voices on the airwaves. Best known for The Poet and the Poem, which is celebrating its 36th year on the air as an hour-long radio program, Cavalieri con- tinues to produce and host the show on public radio. Her programs include every Poet Laureate since and a signiicant collection of African-American poets.

Cavalieri has written 16 books of poems and 26 produced plays. She lives in Annapolis, Maryland, and was married to metal sculptor, Kenneth C. Flynn who recently passed away. She has four children and four grandchildren. I suoi programmi hanno proposto tutti i Poeti Laureati a partire dal e una notevole raccolta di poeti Afro-Americani. La Cavalieri ha scritto 16 libri di poesie e ha prodotto 26 opere teatrali. Vive ad Annapolis, nel Maryland, ed era sposata con lo scultore Kenneth C. Flynn, scomparso recentemente. Ha quattro igli e quattro nipoti. But the African-American link came through poetry rather than cultural or political afiliations.

When I heard a new radio station was being planned to go on-air in Washington, D. I had the love and history on my side Because Washington D. I worked three years fundraising and sweeping loors to get a radio station on the air, to establish a platform for poetry. Although I was making poetry available in a way that had not been done before, I still had to prove myself.

Gwendolyn Brooks was wary of me, but became a friend; Allen Ginsberg insulted me but eventually respected my work. My most profound memories were of truck drivers, prize-ighters, drunks, grandmothers, who called in to read their own poems. Nel periodo tra il e il aiutavo ad avviare ed insegnare la scrittura presso i campus universitari della costa orientale del College di Antioch, a Washington D.

Quando venni a sapere che una nuova stazione radio sarebbe stata fondata, con trasmissioni a Washington D. Lavorai tre anni raccogliendo fondi e pulendo pavimenti pur di far partire le trasmissioni radiofoniche, per fondare un programma per la poesia. Ricorda dei momenti signiicativi di The Poet and the Poem? My heritage is an ongoing theme I have only begun to explore, there is so much richness wait- ing, the past has so many stories, but I cannot be objective about its effect on me yet.

I have yet to make enough use of it. This worries me. But the past is all still in my future. Poetry is the way we rinse off language. If it were not for po- etry, we would all talk in slogans and TV commercials. We would use the language of politicians — words with no meaning.

Poetry is, as Allan Grossman once said, the way we preserve the beloved. I see it as the great equalizer, the democratic ideal, the way every person can speak with an inimitable voice, the miracle that each one of us has our own breath and cadence that cannot be sto- len. Poets document what it is to be alive at this moment in history. What would you like readers to come away with from po- etry? I feel less alone now.

E devo ancora utilizzarlo appieno. Useremmo il linguaggio dei politici — parole senza signiicato. Cosa vorrebbe che la poesia lasciasse ai suoi lettori? Ora mi sento meno sola. Thompson N. Thompson is a full time writer and translator and lives outside Oxford, UK. His latest book of poetry is Letter to Auden Smokestack, a verse epistle in rime royal.

Pier Paolo Pasolini Although he achieved inter- national fame as a ilm director, Pasolini was irst and foremost a poet and played an important part in Italian literary life as editor, critic and novelist. While pursuing these many different paths, he continued to write and publish verse throughout his life, including poetry in the Friulan dialect.

But it was his novels and screenplays of Roman low life that led to his success in the cinema as director: Accatone , Mamma Roma , The Gospel according to Matthew and his famous 70s trilogy Decameron, Canterbury Tales and A Thousand and One Nights. Non puoi, lo vedi? You were young then in that May when error Was still alive2… in that Italian May That gave at least the beneit of ardour, That careless, less immorally healthy Time of our fathers, when you — humble brother, Not a father — were ready with a stealthy Hand, ready to sketch out an ideal other But not for us now, as dead here as you In this dank garden bringing light to bear On silence.

II Tra i due mondi, la tregua, in cui non siamo. Scelte, dedizioni Nei cerchi dei sarcofaghi non fanno che mostrare la superstite sorte di gente laica le laiche iscrizioni in queste grigie pietre, corte e imponenti. Now the wind blows bringing in intermittent drops of rain. II Between two worlds, this is the respite where We have no life. Choices and sacriices… Make no sound in this garden now so bare, If noble. But all the obstinate lies That deaden life are here for death to know. And in these circles of sarcophagi, Banal inscriptions of these banal folk Show nothing but a lasting transition Set in the graveness of this greyish stone, Brief and imposing.

With unbridled passion But no longer any scandal, the burnt Remains of millionaires who came from nations Much grander; as if they were here, the hum Of irony from prince and pederast Whose ashes lie in scattered burial urns And, although turned to cinders, still not chaste. The silence of the dead here is witness To cultivated silence of these last Remains of men still men, of weariness The weary garden tactfully disguises, The city that surrounds it making less Its splendour in between the pieties Of makeshift shacks and churches.

And so I come across you quite by chance With hope and old mistrust still on my tongue And ind you in this makeshift lean-to placed Around your grave, your spirit resting here Along with these free spirits. Ed ecco qui me stesso I feel here — in this quietness where your tomb is Laid, in this country where your tension had No place in this unstable fate of ours, — How right and wrong you were, before the sad Day of your murder, writing the supreme notes3 You did. And bearing witness to the seed Of power with its old traditions not Displaced, these dead attached to ownership That founders in the centuries with its pot Of evil and its grandeur.

But the taps Heard from that hammered anvil, heartrending, Obsessive, if faint, coming from the traps Of poverty, bear witness to its ending. And here I ind myself, poor, in the kind Of clothes the poor admire in window dressing Of garish splendour, but have lost the grime Picked up in long forgotten streets and seats Of trams that give my day a dizzying time. Vivo nel non volere del tramontato dopoguerra: amando il mondo che odio - nella sua miseria sprezzante e perso - per un oscuro scandalo della coscienza Come i poveri povero, mi attacco come loro a umilianti speranze, come loro per vivere mi batto ogni giorno.

Poor as the poor, like them I pit myself Against humiliating hopes, like them I struggle every day to keep one step Ahead in my life. Ma come io possiedo la storia, essa mi possiede; ne sono illuminato: ma a che serve la luce? However, it soon became evident that the scope of the content of these letters called for a differentiated approach and so the editor commissioned me to translate the complete set.

The investment in an unabridged translation would give readers the opportunity not just to satisfy their curiosity about Lisbon, but above all to gain a sense of the complexity of the historical, social and economic issues with which the letters engaged, all the more so because translation is not about impoverishing the original, but about giving it a new lease of life: translation is not just a question of making a text accessible to another community of readers by acquiring a new linguistic and cultural dimension, but above all of allowing the letters to transcend their immediacy and the original purpose for which they were written, and inscribing them in new discursive practices.

This would allow us to preserve the integrity of the letters and, given the fact that the Revista is aimed at a scholarly readership historians, philologists, cultural anthropologists, sociologists, and so on , to invest in a more detailed and in-depth approach, marked by philological accuracy and by a consciousness of the challenges posed by the hermeneutical inquiry.

This would also give me the opportunity to set my own translation agenda, not just in terms of style and method, but also in terms of the future of this project. As a matter of fact, the files contain dozens of other letters and papers written by other members or friends of the family which, in view of their historical value, are also worth translating. I decided to amass all of them with the aim of publishing the whole collection in one single volume.

That work is now underway. The next section seeks to set the letters in their political, social and economic context. The meanings they contain are rooted in a specific historical setting, which has to be revisited so as to enable the text to function simultaneously as a piece of documentary evidence and as an instance of resistance: in the case of the former, substantiating that which historiography has already validated; in the case of the latter, defying or even rebutting historical theories.

The Farrers were one among many of the local families whose lives revolved around the woollen and worsted manufacture and trade in Yorkshire. The success of their business went hand in hand with the economic growth and technological development of the period, a process which would leave an indelible mark on the landscape of the Midlands and the North of England.

The Yorkshire region soon became the chief export centre for manufactured woollen goods. In a world of cut-throat competition, those who succeeded in business were of an unrelenting entrepreneurial and ambitious spirit that often looked beyond the confines of Britain. Industrial expansion forced traders to look further afield and open up new markets; Portugal swiftly became a key destination.

It was only through Lisbon that it was possible to gain access to the Brazilian market, which had long become the mainstay of the intensive southern Atlantic economy, responsible for the capitalisation of the European market in the Early Modern period. Besides, the Portuguese could not afford to lose the support of the old ally, whose navy provided protection for the trade routes between the metropolis and its colonies.

The French invasions of Portugal pushed it to the periphery of the very empire it had founded. If the demise of both commerce and industry had a terrible impact on the economy, the destruction the war wrought in the provinces proved no less damaging. Looting, extortion and massacres left a trail of blood, hatred and revulsion across the whole nation that was to remain unabated for generations.

Agriculture and husbandry practically ground to a halt and farmers were unable to produce the foodstuffs required to feed the urban centres. Famine set in and with it a period of demographic stagnation. Freeing Portugal from the chains of Napoleonic imperialism was not without its costs. Unable to overcome such complete vulnerability, the nation was at the mercy of British interests.

Certainly a significant part of the Portuguese economy had for a long time depended on Britain. Whether Portugal benefited from this trade relationship or not is a matter of controversy Borges de Macedo ; Bethell ; Maxwell ; Pijning ; Pardo However, at least since the Methuen Treaty Britain had been undermining the Portuguese industry with a substantial influx of cheap manufactured goods undercutting all competition.

In January the opening of the Brazilian ports to Britain represented a fatal blow. Two years later, the protective mechanism of customs duties was removed precisely when the Portuguese economy was most in need of it. The prospects for the manufacturing sector grew dimmer as British cotton and wool cloths flooded the Portuguese market. He ended up gaining considerable ascendancy over the representatives of the Prince Regent. In the post-war years he headed the military government, a position which rapidly eroded his earlier prestige as a war hero. People started protesting against the way public funds were being squandered to pay for the presence of British troops on national territory.

Portuguese officers likewise harboured deep-seated resentment towards the British officers, who were now apparently being granted all sorts of privileges and promotions see Glover As a stern defender of Tory absolutism, his views were in line with the ones shared by two other Anglo-Irish potentates, namely Wellington and Castlereagh Newitt His absolutist values, along with his thirst for power, left him isolated in a world riven by deep-rooted hatreds.

Paradoxically, partly thanks to the influence of the British officers, the British tradition of liberalism ended up taking root in a country lacking in ideological coordinates to define its political future. When James Hutchinson first set foot in Lisbon, the country was going through a period of economic depression. His letters mirror the upheavals and the social unrest of the period and therefore help to shed light on historical processes, since they testify to the way in which individuals perceived reality and re acted accordingly. Popular reactions to the new king, news of the uprising in Pernambuco Brazil , political persecutions, and hangings are well documented elsewhere, [2] but here we are given a view from the inside.

Moreover, rather than just affirming the picture that the extensive historiographical literature on the subject has already established, the letters also disclose new facets. Hutchinson could hardly be said to be the definitive model of the successful businessman. His efforts, nonetheless, were mostly undermined by factors that lay beyond his reach. General poverty, scarcity of money, shortages of food and other essentials, and rationing, for example, became recurrent, if not obsessive, subjects in his letters, betraying his sense of frustration and underachievement.

Moreover, Hutchinson was forced to deal with fierce competition within the Portuguese market and the incompetence of the Customs officials, not to mention liabilities and bad debts, marketing obstacles and, curiously enough, an increasingly demanding clientele, all of which imposed psychological costs he found ever more difficult to cope with. Each letter contains, as it were, the very essence of history and, through the picturesque and sometimes disconcerting episodes they feature, they help us recreate a reality long buried by time.

Precisely because this is a genuine voice that has remained hidden amidst other archival material for almost two centuries, unscathed by later misappropriations or misinterpretations, we are able to salvage pristine fragments of the historical experience and to retrieve for our collective memory some of the particularities and singularities that are usually overlooked in the construction of the historical grand narratives of the nation.

In a letter dated 18 October , for instance, Hutchinson speaks of the funeral ceremonies of Queen Maria I and clearly enjoys recounting the peculiar causes of the accidental fire that burned down the church where those ceremonies were being held. Elsewhere he laments the shortage of foodstuffs and the rise in prices which mercilessly strike the poor letter dated 25 January , but he cannot help relishing the story of a woman arrested for stealing bodies from the cemetery to produce black pudding to be sold to the local shops 9 August Notwithstanding the rapid decline of the Portuguese economy during and after the Peninsular War, British traders rapidly resumed their investments in the country.

Samuel Farrer Jr. It would be up to young James Hutchinson Jr. His inexperience notwithstanding, James was not entirely at a loss. The need to account for every transaction and to keep his brother-in-law posted about how business was being conducted resulted in a correspondence of considerable length, which lasted until his departure from Lisbon at the end of Being an outsider in customs, language and feelings, Hutchinson tried hard to accommodate himself to his new setting.

In his letters, however, the affectionate attachment he exhibits towards his sister and the other members of his family indicates that his stay in Lisbon was, emotionally speaking, hard to bear. He often complained about her silence and the fact that she now seemed to have forsaken him altogether. But then, it was not just the separation from his loved ones that threw him into a state of melancholy. His life in the Portuguese capital was infused with a sense of estrangement he was unable to overcome. He felt uprooted and disengaged. It becomes all too apparent that his gaze is that of an outsider, of someone struggling to succeed in a strange, disturbing world, whose social and political environment contrasts in many respects with that of his native land.

He soon realised it would not be easy to fit in. Despite the support that other British expatriates residing in Lisbon gave him, he complained to his family about living conditions there. His difficulty in understanding the Portuguese is particularly visible when he is faced with the lack of patriotic fervour of the man in the street, a fervour one should expect from a nation that had been recently freed from the Napoleonic terror:. Since most of the time he was consumed by work, it becomes difficult for the contemporary reader to detect such feelings of estrangement in the midst of commercial jargon and ledger accounts.

He sought to be meticulous in his book-keeping and reports and sensitive to changes in market conditions, especially as far as fashion, trends, tastes and purchasing power went. He struggled to prove himself worthy of the trust and respect not just of his brother-in-law, but also of other foreign merchants who had already established their names in the Portuguese market.

He even got carried away by the idea of opening his own establishment in order to fend off competition and to tackle the problem of low bids, which often forced him to keep the bales in store for unusually long periods of time. In order to perceive how displaced he felt, one has to read between the lines.

When his enthusiasm waned or his health gave way, an undeclared anxiety and irritation would surface. His less than flattering comments on Portuguese customs officials and the tone of his replies to his brother-in-law whenever suspicion of laxness or mismanagement hung in the air prove the point. He became impatient when ships from Brazil, New York or Falmouth were unduly delayed. He was unnerved by the negligence of long-standing debtors, who often turned a deaf ear to his entreaties. Besides, in spite of the considerable sums of money that passed through his hands, James was far from leading an easy and comfortable life.

In a sense, it was through his own body that he first measured the degree of his maladjustment. He was constantly ill, poorly dressed, and found his lodgings uncomfortable. The weather did not suit him and he feared death might creep up on him.

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He would wear the same clothes for months on end, winter and summer alike. Disease would take hold of him and he would be confined to bed for several weeks. His neat copperplate handwriting would then degenerate to illegible scribbling. Convinced that he was no longer fit for the job, he would then ask Thomas to let Ambrose Pollett, a friend of the family, replace him in the firm. His physical condition would not let him endure another winter in Lisbon.

To him Lisbon, thus, ended up representing the proximity of death, that ultimate moment of displacement. His fears, however, were unfounded and he went back to England where he remained in convalescence, before returning to Portugal. But once more the climate did not agree with him. In the course of his stay, James was badly in need of a focal point to keep things in perspective and letter writing served such a purpose. More than anything else, it allowed him to keep his sense of belonging alive. These letters ended up being the only bridge not just to his origins, but above all to his own identity.

This sentimentality towards his family is in marked contrast with his attitude as an observer. Although Hutchinson cannot entirely detach himself emotionally from what he witnesses, there is a kind of Verfremdungseffekt in his writing, a journalistic objectification of the topics he covers, whereby the distance between himself and the other is never to be entirely spanned. Translating something as intimate and confidential as private letters has the potential to border on voyeurism. It raises issues that concern the ethics of translation, since the translator, unlike the casual reader, is supposed to leave no stone unturned in his struggle to reach communicative effectiveness.

In this sense, translation is to be viewed as an act of intrusion and, simultaneously, of extrusion in other words a disclosure and a close examination of that which pertains to the private sphere. The former constitutes a form of violation , of disrupting that which belongs to the realm of the confessional and becoming, to borrow the words of St. Nevertheless, such violence is mitigated by the transmutational properties of time. Over time, these texts have acquired the status of archaeological evidence, which does not necessarily mean that in this respect the position of the translator is less delicate.

After all, he was not the addressee of the letters and that fact alone poses some problems. An outsider may find it difficult to penetrate the referential fabric of the letters. Unlike travel accounts or autobiographies written for publication, these texts were not intended for a wide readership. They were personal in tone and content, and the writer knew what responses to expect from his only reader living across the English Channel. The writer did not project an ideal or fictional reader to whom he might grant full right of access to the world recreated in his prose.

As a consequence, his world remains sealed off from a larger audience and the translator is forced to break into the textual space like a trespasser. Implicatures lie hidden within this corpus of letters but they can never be entirely unravelled: whatever inferences the translator may draw, he or she will always lack the necessary background knowledge to establish their validity. Such implicatures, one must not forget, are a symptom of the close relationship existing between the two correspondents.

Implicit meanings result from a common experience, excluding other readers. Fortunately, the text in question is generally far more objective and factual than one would suppose, and this alone gives the translator significant leverage over the hidden aspects of the correspondence. It is in the terrain of factuality and narrativity that the translator moves free from major constraints, although it is certain that the faithfulness of the representation can never be taken for granted see Polezzi What we get instead is a myriad of disparate images that can hardly be coalesced into one single picture.

The reason is obvious: the stories he tells do not follow any thematic pattern, other than the fact that all of them revolve around the city itself. Although the anecdotal episodes themselves are self-contained and refer only to fragments of both individual and collective experiences in early nineteenth-century Lisbon, they play an important part in the process of historiographical reconstruction of the past.

The historiographical value of the letters lies in the fact that they contain accounts that were neither censored nor doctored: no one ever scrutinised or edited the stories, which were simply committed to paper without any concern for accuracy, trustworthiness or factuality. The ensemble of letters forms a sort of scrapbook containing clippings or mementos that were never meant to be published. Such moments, however, were bound together by a common genetic code: they all emerged out of the drive for novelty, a drive partly explained by the way the processes of cultural displacement affected the author.

He preferred to position himself as an observer rather than as a commentator, and avoided getting entangled in elaborate considerations. Far from highly opinionated, the letters nonetheless give us the chance of peering into his personality, albeit obliquely. Sometimes, however, he felt compelled to take sides, such as when he dared to air his own opinion on Beresford:. Such explicitness was rare. Shortly after the rebellion in Pernambuco, Brazil, Hutchinson censured himself for letting slip his views on the political turmoil that had gripped the country and decided to not to return to the issue for fear of reprisals:.

His fears over the consequences of political dissent were not wholly misplaced. The horrific hanging of the Conspirators he watched on 22 October , shortly before his departure, left a lasting impression on him:. Here, his voyeurism matched his horror as he came to the full presence of death—that dark character that kept resurfacing in his writing. As we have seen, what was once private acquires, over time, an archaeological value: the status of artefact is conferred on language as privacy metamorphoses into historical evidence.

In translation, chronological distance is of the essence: one might even argue that every translation has embedded in its genes an indelible anachronism. In sharp contrast with our contemporary world, where synchronous forms of communication and instantaneous access to information seem to have taken hold of the way we communicate with each other, the art and craft of translation necessitates the slow transit of time.

It is a painstaking process of problem-solving, reflection and maturation. It takes time and perseverance. And when it involves the representation of past historical phenomena, as in the present case, the temporal dimension acquires critical significance. On the one hand, the translator cannot help excogitating his own condition as a historical subject: he becomes conscious of the relativity of values, of the differentials separating lifestyles, habitus in the Bourdieusian sense and Weltanschauungen. And here, in the translation process, the time gap separating source and target texts functions not so much as a thread linking both acts of writing along a historical continuum but rather as a lens, generating several simultaneous optical effects, where light shifts in unsuspected ways and where appearance must be understood in its composite and elusive nature.

This, of course, entails much scrupulous work of detailed historical research, as well as the ability to articulate it within the translational process. The crux of the matter lies in being able to dwell in the interstices between two languages, two cultures and two historical periods. In other words, one must learn to come to terms with the undecidability which undermines the certainties offered by our ingrained logocentrism. As the translator shifts, in the course of the translation process, from one logosphere in the Barthesian sense to another, he realises that the movement itself does not actually, cannot entail the loss or gain, subtraction or addition of meanings.

Meaning does not constitute some sort of universal currency that is, manifestations of a universal language common to all human beings that can be subjected to a process of direct exchange or transaction. Meanings cannot migrate freely from one language to another. I can only subtract meanings within the system they belong to. Languages weave their own networks of meanings and the exact value of each meaning, if it can ever be assessed, is to be determined only symptomatically by the effects generated by its presence or absence in one particular social and cultural context. To believe in the transferability of the meaning and its capacity to survive as a whole in two distinct linguistic and cultural environments as in a process of ecesis is not to realise something that Derrida pointed out: that even within the same language meanings not only differ a problem of spacing , but are forever deferred which is the condition of their temporality.

One of the main problems of translation, therefore, is not just spatiality but also temporality , particularly the historical condition of the texts. And this, I think, poses an obstacle far more difficult to overcome, since it has to do with the impossibility for the translator to render two externalities compatible in one single target text.

Just as Hutchinson was compelled, as an expatriate, to come to terms with the social and cultural reality of his host country [4] which is, for all purposes, a question of spatiality , so the translator, like a migrant travelling through time, is forced to come to grips with an ancient world governed by laws long forsaken and now irretrievable the question of temporality. And since both writer and translator are forever barred from a fully unmediated contact with the unconsciously lived culture of the Other, both seeing it as something external to themselves, though not necessarily negative, their attempts to assimilate cultural elements and national idiosyncrasies can only take place on the terrain of the imaginary, which enables them to crop, select, filter and reshape elements and idiosyncrasies in order to discursively tame the otherness.

Translators of travel writing therefore have to operate on a double disjuncture. On the one hand, they have to deal with the cultural gap that exists between the author and the people he visits Hutchinson and the Portuguese , a gap which over-determines the perceptions, constructs, responses and projections of otherness of the British expat, but which -- since it is barely made explicit in the text -- can only be detected by means of a symptomatic reading. On the other hand, translators have to negotiate the disjunction that will always separate them from the time and the concrete conditions under which the texts saw the light of day -- a disjunction that is further amplified by the impossibility of mapping the exact location of the intersection of cultures which gives the letters their characteristic intercultural tension see Cronin 6.

Therefore, the translator is left with no choice but to try to overcome these two disjunctions, both of which constitute distinct moments of resistance to interpretation. How can we then circumvent the limitations to translation that such a double disjuncture imposes? Of course a careful, detailed investigation into the empirical elements offered by the letters and the issues broached therein must always be conducted, but this is not enough: it can only be through a critical awareness of these tensions and resistances that translators may decentre themselves and avoid the pitfalls of identification and idealisation.

It is this decentring at the core of translation that ends up being in itself a form of travelling. It is rather the translator and his reader who are invited to venture across a frontier -- the frontier that sets the limits to their identities, values and representations, and that is both spatial and temporal. In fact, the main challenges to the translation of these letters were posed by the problem of temporality, that is, by the difficulties of bridging the time gap. The first issue to be tackled was the stylistics of the Portuguese target text.

It was not just a matter of finding the best equivalents and transferring contents from the source text into the target language without major semantic losses. It was also a matter of finding a style and a register that could somehow match the original ones. In order to do that, I compared the letters to similar archival and bibliographical sources in Portuguese. The analysis of the examples of letters allowed me to determine the way in which the target text was to be drafted.

In Portuguese, this is not so linear. In the early nineteenth century, modes of address would have varied according not only to social class, age or degree of familiarity, but also to written language conventions. The solution to the difficulty in ascertaining whether we were dealing with informality or politeness was partly given by the manual. This was the form I resorted to throughout. Another difficulty had to do with wording.

The manuals proved useful in guiding my lexical choices. I wanted to give the translation a distinctive period flavour to represent the historical dimension of the original letters. Another challenge was related to the commercial jargon both in English and in Portuguese. Nowadays commercial terminology in both languages is much more complex, but most of the neologisms that currently exist in Portuguese are English words. Back then, that influence was more tenuous.

In any case, the search for the right equivalent would have always been time-consuming. If we multiply this by the wide spectrum of nomenclatures related to those areas of economic activity Hutchinson was directly or indirectly involved in, we have an idea of the complexity of the task. To start with, there were the inner workings of the wool trade business. I had to unwind the ball of yarn of the English wool and worsted industry, including all the details concerning the different stages of the manufacturing process: recognising the provenance and differences in quality of the raw wool available in both the Portuguese and Spanish markets, the various patterns of the warp and weft, the way the cloth should be cut or dressed, specific types of woollen cloths, their designs and colours, and so on.

It took me a while before I learnt from a magazine published in London in Tilloch that the initials did not stand for any English or Portuguese words, but for Spanish ones. They referred to the way Spanish wool which also included Portuguese wool was classified: Primera or Refina R. Moreover, since conducting business ventures overseas back then was not without its risks, I had to acquaint myself with the idiom used in cargo and shipping insurance, learn about risk-assessment, shipping deadlines, storage conditions, bills of lading, types of merchant ships crossing the Atlantic, and so on.

But then there are also taxes and duties, customs procedures and the requirements of port authorities, the valuation of the bales in the Cocket, [5] goods lodged at the Custom House not yet dispatched -- all of this wrapped up in a language of its own, which has to be patiently disassembled, explored, digested, and then reassembled and fine-tuned in the translation process. In order to penetrate that language I had to resort to historical research once more. However, since the Revista de Estudos Anglo-Portugueses is aimed at a scholarly readership, it proved unnecessary to insist on the explanation of cultural or linguistic aspects that they are supposed to be already acquainted with.

Differences in style between early nineteenth-century and early twenty-first-century Portuguese are noticeable, but they do not make the text less intelligible. In any case, stylistic conventions should not pose a problem for all the scholars who are used to working with documents of that period. So I kept the footnotes to a minimum. The future publication of a book containing the complete correspondence of the Farrer family, this time aiming at a more general readership, will entail a different explanatory methodology, but not a different stylistic treatment.

Writing narratives of displacement and travel is in itself a translational act, where the author is always seeking to translate into his mother tongue the manifestations of the culture of the other. In the process, the translator is forced to question his identity, values and the representations of his own nation and people, especially if the original text is non-fictional and therefore stakes a claim to the immediacy and truthfulness of the experience. The translator thus has to achieve a tour-de-force in bridging all three gaps and rendering the text accessible to the contemporary reader.

However, the meanings in the target text will always have but a spectral relation with the ones in the source text: they are constructed at the same time as a re-apparition of a former presence that does not present itself as full presence and as the apparition of a new presence —a new text in its own right. Brewster, London, New Left Books. London, R. Covering dates: Paris, ; Joaquim Ferreira de Freitas. London, Richard and Arthur Taylor, He is also the director of studies of postgraduate programmes in ELT and translation. He has also participated in several European-funded projects related to teacher training and computer-assisted language learning.

English: This article aims to investigate how humour is translated in two theatrical plays by Eugene Ionesco La Cantatrice chauv e and Les Chaise s into Greek. The study explores three different Greek versions of the two theatrical plays. On the one hand, it seeks to consider humorous effects within the original plays, and on the other hand, it investigates the challenges involved in transposing verbal humour and the strategies used to translate or even reinforce humour in the translated texts. If incongruity is an indispensable humour - provoking parameter, translators should also seek to mobilize the same cognitive mechanism in the translated texts.

It is argued that even if a more literal translation is not always privileged or even possible, what is of importance is the humorous effect, otherwise the perlocutionary force of the translated humour on the target audience. Nous sommes comiques. Toutes les personnes importantes? Les psychiatres et leurs psychopathes? Le Pap e, les pap illons et les pap iers.

Ionesco , Les Chaises , traduit par Belies, p. La sou pape a un pape. Le pape a besoin d'un bouchon. Bien que ce ne soit pas grand-chose. Ionesco , La Cantatrice chauve , traduit par Protopapas, p. Ionesco , La Cantatrice chauve , traduit par Belies , pp. Et il riait comme un veau.

Ionesco, Les Chaises traduit par Stamatiou. Pourquoi tu prenais mal tout trop facilement? Il a juste fait une blague. Je n'aime pas les blagues! Giorgos Protopapas. Traduit en grec. Erikkos Belies Traduit en grec. Belgium, University Press Antwerp: House, Juliane Translation quality assessment. A model revisited, Tubingen, Gunther Narr. Gruner, Charles, R. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction. Trabelsi dir. Margot, Jean-Claude Traduire et trahir.

Meyer, John, C. Nida, Eugene, A. Reiss, Katharina, et Vermeer, Hans, J. Nord, , Manchester: St Jerome Publishing. Vandaele, Jeroen guest ed. Jerome Publishing, Vol. London, Continuum: Maria Constantinou received her Ph. She taught foreign languages and communication-related courses in private academic institutions of Cyprus , and since January , she has been teaching linguistics, critical discourse analysis, semiotics and translation both theory and practice at the University of Cyprus.

She is particularly interested in issues related to metaphors, ideology, emotions, humour, discourse, society and identity construction. She has published on Kazantzakis and Ionesco, focussing mainly on the phenomena of intertextuality, metaphor, humour and ideology. Her recent research includes journalistic and political discourse, CMC forums, blogs and media and institutional translation and pays particular attention to the interplay between image and text.

She has participated in various conferences and published articles and chapters on and in English, French and Greek mainly from a contrastive, cross-cultural and translational perspective in refereed and peer-reviewed journals and edited volumes. The manifold interface between music, migration and translation can foster challenging research, especially when translation is metaphorically approached as a continuous journey and migrating condition of people and forms.

Moreover, this song has been crossing an unbelievable number of geographical, temporal and artistic boundaries, often intertwined with actual stories of Italian-American migration. The case study focuses on some relevant moments in this amazing journey, observing the successive layers of meaning created by its many incarnations.

The case study fully confirms that broader perspectives are crucial when studying the migration of popular songs. Monolithic notions, such as authenticity, cultural specificity or musical genre, as well as narrow distinctions between song translation proper , intralingua translation, non-translation and adaptation do not easily engage with this context.

Thus, flexibility is the only viable answer. It is a stimulating field for both Music and Translation Studies, calling for more challenging approaches and greater contamination from both research areas. Music is a migrating form of art. Being a universal language Minors 1 , it can spread and migrate much more easily than people, thus establishing contacts and interacting with a variety of cultural influences.

It comes as no surprise that stimulating contributions have recently appeared, showing that studies on music and migration can be promising allies in particular, see Kapelj in and Kiwan and Meinhof Similarly, the articulate interface between music and translation has started to attract increasing academic attention, becoming the focus of a growing number of thought-provoking studies [1]. The intersection of translation and music can be a fascinating field to explore. It can enrich our understanding of what translation might entail, how far its boundaries can be extended and how it relates to other forms of expression.

Research into this area can thus help us locate translation-related activities in a broader context, undermining more conservative notions of translation and mediation. Susam-Saraeva The focus on translation has been shifted towards cultural processes, with increasing emphasis on new modes of mobility and transcultural sociability born across multiple borders and boundaries. Translation is seen as a continuous journey, a metaphor for the migrating condition of people and forms.

Bassnett and Trivedi Each time some meaningful layers have been added, both problematizing and enriching the migration of this song. However, these steps can be better understood only if read as parts of a complex process still in progress, rather than a series of detached translational episodes. Therefore, the aim of the article is to offer a downside-up contribution to the debate on song translation through a paradigmatic case study. The analysis of a concrete example of a multifaceted translational process is a way to confirm and stress the relevance of more comprehensive and extended theoretical foundations within cultural translation studies.

Translation Studies have often overlooked popular songs, especially their semiotic complexity. Yet, paradoxically, it is their very multidimensional nature that makes studying them so challenging and promising at the same time. Undoubtedly, an element of its complexity is the fact that the genre called song is a verbal-musical hybrid Low b: Chanan However, this paradox is only one of the elements of complexity in songs. The physique of the performers, their facial expression and gestures, their costumes, hair, and make-up, as well as dancers, lighting and possible props, merge into the song.

The methodological complexities and challenges involved in the study of popular song translation are thus evident. The study of song recordings and videos should rely on a vast area of expertise. A combined competence, in Translation Studies, Music as well as Semiotics, is unfortunately not easy to find. However, even when moving on from mere criticism of single texts, researchers need to adopt new frameworks when studying music and translation Susam-Saraeva To start with, greater flexibility is crucial, since rigid distinctions could be misleading. The present author rather shares the view that distinctions are better seen as blurred in post-structuralist thought Van Wyke This opinion is even more appropriate in the case of translation of non-canonized music, such as popular song translation.

Susam-Saraeva stresses that. Susam-Saraeva , highlighting added. This case study will show how a long series of different transformations can receive greater significance if approached as a continual translational story. However, this approach inherently requires the overcoming of narrow definitions and boundaries between translation proper , adaptation and re-writing. Understandably, the impact of music and in particular of songs is even more intense on migrant communities Susam-Sarajeva Since its composition in lyrics by Giovanni Capurro, music by Edoardo Di Capua, published by Edizioni Bideri, Naples , the song has spread rapidly and is still crossing an impressive, unbelievable number of geographical, temporal and artistic borders and boundaries.

At any rate, it cannot be denied that its popularity has been exceptional, and this is fully confirmed by the Neapolitan Song Sound Archives in Naples, a recent foundation by RadioRai the Italian state radio together with Naples Municipality and Campania Regional Council. Eloquent proof of this is that on August 14 th in Antwerp, at the opening of the first Olympic Games after World War I, when the band conductor realized that no score of the Italian Royal March was available, he chose to play 'O sole mio , a tune that all his musicians could play by ear, and the song was greeted with great enthusiasm by all those present Del Bosco 6.

Pesc and Stazio 11 [As a music form, Neapolitan song is a metonymy for a city, and sometimes even for the whole country. It is an eloquent example of narrativization of place. However, any claims to regard City and Country as monolithic entities remain suspect. We must acknowledge that urban cultures are by their very nature the result of multiple intersections and layers, and similarly local and national cultures are seldom so homogenous as to be conveyed by a single song, or music form, although they may serve as identity emblems.

Naples is no exception, of course, though it has a few very distinctive traits. One of them is the persisting presence of a type of musical production with strong identifying factors since the 19th, which complicates and problematizes what has just been observed. On the other hand, an important issue to weigh in is that, paradoxically, this musical form is a sort of hybrid, and has been so since its very beginning.

What is usually labelled as Neapolitan song is very far from being a uniform musical genre. In fact, it is a much more complex and multifaceted cultural phenomenon than one might expect. The beginning of the classical season of Neapolitan art songs is identified with the closing decades of the 19 th century, but the actual origins of this musical form are vague and should be traced back to the 14 th century, and probably even earlier.

Neapolitan polyphonic roundelays with lute or calascione accompaniment [2] had already become quite popular between the 14th and the 15th centuries; their matrix had been the villanelle alla napolitana , a very popular song genre in Neapolitan dialect especially between and , which also attracted important composers, like Claudio Monteverdi. It also reflects complex phenomena, from the steady migration into Naples from other areas in the Realm, to the continual daily commuting of so-called cafoni , common louts, from the surrounding countryside. Although fiction is not to be taken as an accurate reflection of real life, this episode evokes a plausible dislocation of the song from Southern Italy to Venice, popular enough to be sung even by a gondolier.

Venice and Naples had belonged to different states only a few decades before, in pre-Unification Italy. This means that important cultural and linguistic borders had still to be crossed within the Italian peninsula.

A wall of numbers

In point of fact, its lyrics, even nowadays, can be only partially understood by native Italian speakers not fully acquainted with the Neapolitan dialect. Structurally and rhythmically, the text is characterized by regularity and constant alternation of rhymed stanzas and chorus. Repetition words, phrases and whole lines is the key figure throughout the poem.

Moreover, each four-line stanza is framed by the recurrence of the same line. What a wonderful thing a sunny day The cool air after a thunderstorm! The fresh breezes banish the heavy air… What a wonderful thing a sunny day. Il sole, il sole mio, Sta in fronte a te Sta in fronte a te.

Luccicano I vetri della tua finestra, una lavandaia canta e si vanta Mentre strizza, stende e canta. Luccicano I vetri della tua finestra! Shining is the glass from your window; A washwoman is singing and bragging Wringing and hanging laundry and singing Shining is the glass from your window.

Quando fa sera e il sole se ne scende, Mi viene quasi una malinconia… Resterei sotto la tua finestra, Quando fa sera ed il sole se ne scende. But another sun, […] [4]. In the whole poem, a text of only thirty-three lines, the word sole sun occurs sixteen times. Presumably this core image is what has helped it overcome linguistic barriers and reach native Italian speakers outside Naples.

Nonetheless, although it is not a minor mistake, this common mistranslation has paved the way of the migration of the song, at least at the beginning. It has become a quintessential synthesis, or rather an epitome of Latin vitality and passionate feeling. The mistaken meaning has even become an important factor in collective identity construction. The implicit commonplace is the equation sunshine is Naples and Italy, with two direct corollaries:. They were singular figures, street musicians who, accompanied occasionally by a pianino a portable musical box on a hand-cart , but mostly by a guitar, interpreted all types of popular song, travelling almost all over Europe [5].

Italians were migrating from different parts of Italy, carrying with them very different cultural backgrounds. Caruso was the most admired Italian opera tenor of the early Twentieth Century, and certainly the most celebrated and highest paid of his contemporaries worldwide. From November 23 rd his name was associated with the Metropolitan Opera in New York City, where he opened each season for eighteen consecutive years.

Undoubtedly, this recording itself could be seen as a meaningful form of transformation, through musical reconceptualization, arrangement, performance and singing style. Certainly, Italian communities abroad looked up to him. He was a migrant like them, and thus they could idolize him as an emblem of collective Italian redemption. Opera and great theatres meant higher prestige and greater circulation abroad, well beyond Italian-speaking migrant communities. This way, greater emphasis is placed on the stanzas that are more focussed on the sunshine and easier to understand, being linguistically least dialectical.

Instead it proves how incongruous ideas of authentic interpretations can be. The first recorded version in English sung by American born Charles W. However, although interesting, all these cases only affect the textual-linguistic level of the song. It was sung by the American singer Tony Martin as well as by the Italian American singer Dean Martin, who recorded it some years later. Easily perceivable effects of cultural displacement can be spotted in the disconnecting of lyrics and partly of music, too, from the Neapolitan song that had reached the USA.

It is a radical rewriting, to start with the lyrics. Love is a flower that blooms so tender Each kiss a dew drop of sweet surrender, Love is a moment of life enchanting, Let's take that moment, that tonight is granting, There's no tomorrow when love is new, Now is forever when love is true, So kiss me and hold me tight, There's no tomorrow, there's just tonight [10]. It gives way to a more universal theme, Love, which Love becomes the absolute protagonist of the song. Its warmth and unmistakably Mediterranean flavour are easily seen as the perfect match for a successful message of fervent and sensuous seduction.

The shift from opera orchestras to variety show bands needs important musical reconceptualization, but voice still plays the main role. In both cases, however, what remains pivotal is the successful match of passionate melody and warm voice. On the one hand, he is adding a strong exotic Mediterranean flavour to his performance, thoroughly befitting a passionate seduction song, while, on the other hand, he is sending a strong signal to Italian communities in America.

Both musically and textually the Neapolitan song is drastically changed through a translational approach, which minimizes its foreignness to the point of overshadowing it. A 20 th -century concept, which rarely appeared in earlier song but did appear with some frequency from the thirties on, was the possibility of impermanent love.

Frasi per Instagram in Inglese: le più belle (con traduzione)

Tawa It favours love as a theme, although romantic sentimentality gives way to seduction and passion, with a subtle trace of urban cynicism. It's now or never, come hold me tight Kiss me my darling, be mine tonight Tomorrow will be too late, it's now or never, my love won't wait. It's now or never, come hold me tight Kiss me my darling, be mine tonight Tomorrow will be too late, it's now or never, my love won't wait [14].

It is immediately a roaring success. According to the Wikipedia list of best-selling singles, it is the eighth best-selling single of all time, while other sources exalt it as the best-selling single ever. Arguably the best selling single of all time, it shifted 30 million copies worldwide Julie Burns It consists basically of a bar chorus and verse, both based on a familiar tune, and there is nothing unusual or striking about the melodic or harmonic structure of this song.

As Saffle states, what is really unusual is the way Elvis sings this song, his strikingly handsome and heart-felt performance Saffle Elvis Presley was a stunning performer, and although he did not compose any of his music, the ways in which he performed the songs made them always sound new and unique. However, since his powerful stage presence had started to defy the values of more conservative audiences, who began to be suspicious of his glamorous bad-boy appeal and his culturally challenging music, in this song he deliberately adopted a more passionate and less defiant performing style Saffle 2.

However, market conventions also include the need to stress the Italian flavour as an essential element in a love song of seduction. The use of a mandolin in the orchestra accompaniment, an instrument traditionally associated with Italian folk music, is clearly meant to provide local colour, too. They are perfectly in line with the conventional image of Italy as the country of melody and sensual romance needed for the American market.

What is theoretically innovative, and politically crucial, is the need to think beyond narratives of originary and initial subjectivities and to focus on those moments or processes that are produced in the articulation of cultural differences. Bhabha 2.

What is important is that the song lives on, modified and modifying at the same time. It travels well beyond Italian migrant communities and reaches once unimaginable audiences, who unavoidably receive it according to their specific historical and cultural backgrounds. The lyrics are in English, but with important Italo-American invasions. First of all, paisans in the second line.

As the Urban Dictionary online explains, paisan is a word used with Italians or Italian Americans when they are informally, but in a friendly manner, addressing one another. It is the imperative first person plural form from the Neapolitan language, but it is misspelled. It should be written, and pronounced, with double mm , facimmela, but the phonemic distinction between m and mm is often missed by English speakers. Moreover, as in the preceding example, a rule of English grammar is easily applied to a foreign word.

At any rate, the reference could hardly be more evident in a music video of the song accessible in SonicHits webpage [17]. At the same time, its distance from the source song is equally stressed. New layers have been added. Such an articulate story of domestication, negotiation and difference is at this point intrinsically part of the substratum of the song and necessarily takes part in its ongoing migration. Many years later, the process of creative hybridization remains as strong as ever, opening unexpected and innovative sites of negotiation and collaboration.

Strictly speaking, Pino Daniele is no emigrant and is always aware of his deep personal links with his hometown, Naples. Yet his whole artistic quest is in a certain sense a never-ending migration, until his premature death in January Since his first album in , Pino Daniele has been a transnational artist, endlessly experimenting and exploring differences in music genres and rhythms, while always preserving its Neapolitan roots, or rather its South Mediterranean nature. His privileged attention is to American music, music of Afro-American origins, rock, jazz, funky and above all blues.

Even its lyrics are not translated. The admixture is easily perceivable in a music video [18]. Pino Daniele is sitting and playing a guitar, accompanied by an assorted group of classic and ethnic instruments and musicians. The economic use of instruments and a sober stage design create a deliberately less glamorous atmosphere. He thus offers a unique song, which is both homage to Elvis Presley and American blues as well as a powerful response and expression of resistance to Anglo-American mainstream music from this side of the Ocean.

If code switching in a song is already a meaningful organizational and aesthetic device meant to achieve both localization and globalization Davies , in this song there is much more, from text and linguistic switching to cultural hybridization and artful music contamination. The concept of transcultural intimacy , a collective intimacy beyond and across nations a main notion in Susam-Saraeva , opens new perspectives in this research.

Among them, Mario Bellavista, a jazz pianist from Palermo, should be noted. Bellavista, who is a lawyer by profession, has recently recorded an album entitled O sole mio , which is also one of its eight tracks. In a video interview accessible online, Bellavista points out that the three American artists warmly welcomed his proposal and even actively contributed to the arrangements [20].

Bellavista moves around New York by car but he does not do the driving. So he can better observe and enjoy. Although he is often in the video, it is mostly his privileged perspective that guides the camera, which contributes to making these images so personal and incisive. New York was the port of arrival in the USA for so many Italian migrants and as such it certainly has an important symbolic value in the video.

However, this jazz version looks back and forwards at the same time. Along the journey the song has taken on many more layers, opening to Afro-American rhythms and developing transcultural dimensions. What we think to be very far, is very close to us, or even inside us at times. Thanks to Harvie, Jerry and Eric, who have helped me feel more Italian. It is an important admission of transcultural intimacy and an implicit acknowlegment of the creative value of translational hybridization. After all, it is its captivating passionate melody that has mostly driven the translational journey of the song, favouring the multifaceted encounters that mark out its exceptional progress.