Francis Turner
by Edgar Lee Masters
I could not run or play
In boyhood.
In manhood I could only sip the cup,
Not drink-
For scarlet-fever left my heart diseased.
Yet I lie here
Soothed by a secret none but Mary knows:
There is a garden of acacia,
Catalpa trees, and arbors sweet with wines-
There on that afternoon in June
By Mary’s side-
Kissing her with my soul upon my lips
It suddenly took flight.
Versione in dialetto siciliano
di Marco Scalabrino
Nun putia curriri né jucari
di picciriddu.
Quannu fui omu potti sulu liccari la coppa,
senza però viviri,
pirchì la scarlattina mi lassau lu cori a tri tubbi.
Ntantu sugnu cca
addiccatu d’un sigretu chi sulu Maria canusci:
c’è un jardinu di acacia,
di minnulara e pirgulati zuccarini,
ddocu un jornu di Giugnu doppupranzu,
mentri vasava a Maria
cu l’anima agghicata tutta a li mei labbra,
chista a la ntrasatta pigghiau volu.
