Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli

(7 September 1791 – 21 December 1863 / Rome)

Er Confessore (The Confessor) - Poem by Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli

Padre... -- Dite il confiteor. -- L'ho detto. --
L'atto di contrizione? -- Già l'ho ffatto. --
Avanti dunque. -- Ho detto cazzo-matto
A mi' marito, e j'ho arzato un grossetto. --

Poi? -- Pe una pila che me róppe er gatto
Je disse for de me: "Si' maledetto";
E è cratura de Dio! -- C'e altro? -- Tratto
Un giuvenotto, e ce sò ita a letto. --

E lì cosa è successo? -- Un po' de tutto.--
Cioè? Sempre, m'immagino, pel dritto. --
Puro a riverzo... -- Oh che peccato brutto!

Dunque, in causa di questo giovanotto,
Tornate, figlia, con cuore trafitto,
Domani, a casa mia, verso le otto.


english

Father... -- Say the Confiteor [1] . -- I did. --
The act of contrition ? [1] -- I have already made it. --
Well then. -- I called my husband an idiot,
And I stole from him a silver piece. --

What else? -- When the cat broke a pot
I shouted to her in rage: "Curse on you";
She is God's creature! [2] -- Anything else? -- I'm having
An affair with a young man, and I have slept with him. --

And what happened there? -- More or less, everything. --
You mean always frontwards [3] , I suppose. --
Also backwards... -- Oh what a terrible sin!

So, by reason of this young man,
Come, my dear, with a grieving heart,
To see me at home, tomorrow at eight o'clock.


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Read poems about / on: cat, husband, silver, father, home, god, sleep



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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