The cílze, the crowds meggie I 'I stèive city city, sote
to Zenne nes de mure ngaseméie
purtisse me well in aluminum mmèje paèise.
Adda tenèive die na de cumbagne
and ffràteme and ssòrema peccenénne
and mmamme indre to nna chesa all shiny. But m'allassive
forest, ngumbagnije
jattarídde of u and 'Chen Uardijòule. And
ttuttecòuse: the where, u palummídde,
the ffice, u MMEL, the cílze, meggie the throngs to
jjésse c'i purtive to qquédda mothers.
But Mo, who Jesse is dead, and nno dda spades
cchiu Oue has skis, tatà?
cchiu Oue has skis?
Yet Iie tenge semba na fears
you you you 'ffatte old, and dde Sté boobies
maybe u nde said core.
I 'na tenge fears tatà MIJE,
quanno you fe' the varve p-lu rasul,
Pó that 'it nd'arredzilje accum'e ttanne, and
ll'ua cèreva cèreve and ttuttecòuse
mitte nde na cruuèdda iròsse CCE and the Purt,
to mmamme indre to nna Chesa all shiny.
The mulberry trees, the best fruits - I stood silently and motionless in a corner, if anything take me, even me, to the country. There I had a bunch of mates and my brother and my sister still small and my mother in a house of light. But you left me in the fields, in the company of the cat and the dog Guardiola. And everything: eggs, dove, figs, honey, mulberry trees, the best fruits of her you take them to the mother. But now that she is dead, and not just where you go more, father? where will you go most? Yet, I always have a great fear: you have become old and alone, perhaps, not your heart tells you. I have a great fear, my father, when you do the beard with the razor, which, then, do not dress as new, as then, and fresh grapes and put everything in a big basket and carried it to my mother in a Home of light.
