LA BALLATA DELL’ARDITO (THE BALLAD OF THE ARDITO*)
Sharing my acquavite** and my strong cut-tobacco
On the Italian Alpine plateau, at dawn
A lieutenant taken prisoner and I sunk
Into the silence of that winter calm.
The clear air of the peaks wouldn’t carry that stench
Which was familiar to both of us,
The stench of a young Europe caught in barbed wire,
Rotting like manure.
But If I led you, it was because of my desperation
Not fearless impetuousness, but only indifference.
And if I’ve ever been ardito*, it was because I’ve been wounded for a long time
And I was waiting for the moment of my ultimate discharge,
Of the definitive Belief of he who feels nothing but disgust.
The battle of Solstice heralded itself with a dreadful roar
Running along the entire front.
The perfect day to die, just the right one instilling its light upon the world
For a very long time.
I led my men outside, singing the bitter lyrics of blame I’ve learnt
In narrow lanes close to port.
Relying on the fact that the Fate, by collecting us by the handful,
Would have at least righted all wrongs.
But even though we were praised, and declared heroes
A treaty betrayed our blood.
And for all those who became dung, only a royal dispatch of vile condolences
So I took the liberty of challenging the Power
Of the Hand which was plotting respectably and in silence, strangling the people with golden chains,
And not of enemies who were bleeding just as we were bleeding
And now I’m wandering, trying to request an audience with the one and only Superior…
– “Major Renzi! Presente!***”
**acquavite = a sort of italian brandy
* “Ardito” in Italian means also “bold, fearless” – so, it’s a pun.
*** it’s the Italian military salute for dead soldiers/officers
UN SOGNO D’ELETTRA (ELETTRA’S DREAM)
The night in my boudoir is dense,
A dream is rising from incense vapours –
A mirage of you.
Nothing can alleviate these thoughts of you,
The usual caress of laudanum is ineffective.
Just tell me why –
You taste of blood and lead, you penetrate my world
Just as that pure sword of the Archangel Michael,
But behind you, there’s a more ancient God who’s calling…
With your uniform on, my Soldier
You seem to me a king adorned with gold and fire
It’s not because of that uniform that I noticed you:
It’s the Man who wears it, who makes me succumb…
Oh forgive my impudence, Madame
But I couldn’t stand it anymore,
I know I could even die for you
Yes, but it’s better than at the battlefront!
Oh open to me your opium den, that ambrosia which makes my blood run faster
‘Cause in two days I’ll be back to that hell
Or I’m convicted of deserting.
Touch the Madness now – it’s generous.
Tonight there’s no need to ask.
It’s a black symphony, but so precious
It can even treat your Abyss, you’ll see…
Mais vous êtes si loin, vous êtes si loin*
Oh just win and conquer me, my handsome Officer
Tonight we have our last chance.
You’ll have something to remember over there,
Amongst the cannon shots.
Oh hold me tight, my Major
Take me again, harder and harder
It’s nothing, but surely
I know I’m embracing the Death…
Mais vous êtes si loin, vous êtes si loin*
* French for « you are so far away, so far away… »