ADRIANO SANSA

HONOURS OF TEARS. In memory of the Sicilian martyrs.

FALCONE AND BORSELLINO POETICALLY COMMEMORATED BY A MAGISTRATE

Adriano Sansa born at Pola in 1940, is a magistrate in Genoa (for the time being he is the mayor of the same town).
He writes for dailies and weeklies about social subjects: his articles have been collected in two volumes (LA REPUBBLICA DISEGUALE/THE UNEVEN REPUBLIC Milano 1981 and LA MEMORIA E LA SPERANZA/MEMORY AND HOPE, Genoa, 1990),

He has published the following collections of poems


- VIGILIA/EVE,

- LA CASA DI SANT'ILARIO/THE HOUSE AT ST ILARIO,

- NOTTI DI GUARDIA/WATCHNIGHTS,

He is associate editor of "RESINE"/"RESINS"

 

HONOURS OF TEARS.

In memory of the Sicilian martyrs.

 

CHORUS

Who's brave and valiant tastes of death but once

The coward many times if he submits

To the will of ruler, who in secret

Lives plotting and he suddenly gets, out

Unable really brightness to accept                                                5

So blinded that his brother he does kill.

GIOVANNI

The ardent air supports my spread out wings

And I fly o'er Palermo in sweetness

Of oranges and Indian figs. meantime

The sun feelings destroys and colours gives                                     10

A deep background so intense that nearly

The &sure grows dark and vegetation

Precociously assumes a shade of black.

Along the oldest road* tho bloodshed seems

In the veins to flow at a lower speed                                                 15

And the pavements to flood with uniform

Majestic carelessness* The sea meanwhile

Par off stays to penetrate refuses

To cleanse the districts and to open wide

As far as zest of life and real true salt                                                 20

Those downcast thresholds and those flue doorways

Where in the shade does stop stone of the hearts,

Back home this morning: between two churches

Highly crowded with statues and paraments

Gravely wore going on the ambiguous priests                                     25

The dying and the murderers attending.

But we, being young# along speeded playing

With our blood well closed and dry no one

Did cut our swollen veins, there van Paolo

Who used to seize the ball and lock at me                                         30

Calm searching for the point where is the game

To be expected winning, I don't mind

If already any man had in his eyes

That feral gleam that worthless makes and vile

And teaches one to perjure much sooner                                           35

Than does tighten to throttle the taut rope.

This evening we will be alongside the sea

We members of the old squad and the boys

All being deep in the beach to throw, lighted

With the red-hot day which makes red coloured                                 40

The arms as well the vine on the slight slopes

All the way to the island's heart. Who says

That's but a lightless flesh absolutely

His shut-in heart, his heart too grim, too dark...

PAOLO

So dull a sound was heard out of the eaves                                         45

Of Mount Pollegrinop at just this time

Already near the feast: sulphur miners

For ages fatally repressed by mines

Detrimental to eyes# noxious to breath

All do wander among us InspIredly,                                                  50

But not that dreadful bang, like a thunder

Of roaring planes in the sky high-broadened

Due to the face of rock at Raisi Peak

Toward my town and off thrown at the world

Deeply the worms have dug inside the rock                                      55

And have excreted white malign powder

By which deceived we are all: the peasant

In salt mines being dazzled at the season

Of harvest slowly set in proper place

The salt of the earth. Here dim, obscure grove                                 60

The iris of the eyes for a poison

Mixing red in every point and middles

With your life summer, the religious rites

In the smothered Cathedral, the great pomp

Of the baroque mansions and those curtains                                     65

Where moves the uncertain deceitful war.

Refined and unrefined. The murderers.

Therefore rest in the shade and in Rome, too.

MANFREDI

Father, on such a day how kind you were

Laying down your hands upon Giovanni                                         70

Who has lost his body torn to pieces

But with you he kept on talking over

Human beings and flowing time, You did know

To already be with him, though not yet.

Silence, there was huge silence in springtime                                     75

The lights got longer and you used to stay

Only just glancing and only murmuring

Over the papers on your table till

The sunset set fire to the windows

Of the high bookcase. Evermore it seemed                                     80

The same house, the one that was flying swiftly

At night in the breath or wind like so many

From Greek isles to the Mediterranean

White shores and then no one else in the world

For brightness of the air after the fire,                                             85

But a hot awful furious rush of wind

Put an end to his breathing and broke down

Windowpanes and tho door, pressed hearts so closely

As to have then struck down and turned the walls

Red, that inspiring dread Sicilian redo                                             90

CHORUS

Moves round the Colosseum a long line

Of impeccably polished cars whose curtains

Keep faces of eyeless persons secret.

Hidden remain some beasts and brutes in cells

or dampened stone or among the Christians                                  95

Who them don't recognize and confused

Prom time to time they do shriek out frightened

Discovering the snare, or else happy

Duo to the green of the field in the middle

Of something there they do acclaim inside                                     100

They ne'er know what In but longing and thirst

To poise high the voice, In the middle of then

So gathered up that doing and suffering

Would be in throngs pompous grandiose and great

Evil and good# is spreading mixed and Jumbled                             105

With that of the steps which lose consistency

Of their amphitheatre an acrid white

Powder up risen by that very whirlpool

Without a break out there up to the signs

Of courses of aeroplanes and now ships                                         110

With different amphoras where from the oil

Is being lot out for ever. Hands untouched

By the air and by the work are waving

Decisive and ultimate: servants stoop

And go to all people to communicate                                             115

The evilspel. Besides there is Pilate

In many rooms of bright manor-houses

By far than other men still more guiltless.

However this by then know Giovanni

In' Paoloq from Palermol while both sailing                                     120

At his own heart unimpaired and hoping

That the blood of the youths could be rescued

From the pals white that in the blood does thaw

Deadly sharp weakness, Byer on evenings

Among the towns motor-cars were running                                     125

To collect money from those who are dying

And it deliver to the incorrupt hands

From time to time outstained and made again

With stone like the orbit of the faces.

Please, don't come to Palormog don't return                                  130

To funerals and moans that such a circle

Doesn't shun or avoid and it mars crossing

The streets and aisles just on the occasion

Yells the voice out at the end of the mind

Of the woman whose husband is earthen.                                      135

Lend your ears: pauses in Rome the silence

Of one hundred thousand In the stadium.

But hither If you come look for the place

Where people laugh and when, and laughs repellant

The murderer to whom are refloated                                             140

On the panes of window' calm reflections

Of th'exhausted slow Tiber. No one, none

Of past heroes is by water sailing...

BISHOP

I wish I could tell you, in short I say

That notwithstanding all God those forgiven                                  145

Who fall on their own knees, Before their time

However the hall I bid the sinners

Proud to the end and haughty: yet still whore

I'll find the appropriate words expected

By this down-hearted crowd to which does come                         150

Neither a prince nor a chief to utter

Rightost sounds of the message, the only ones

Indispensable and apt to that feeling

Even if burled In the hearts. Where then

I'll talk to you about Rome not to caress                                         155

Children an once Pope John did and to give

The momentous warning from the balcony

Oter the wellknown piazza, but about Rome

Peeding on delays and still remaining

Notorious for the plots. As well my priests                                     160

Are sometimes in the villages confined

On border of the cathedral shadow

Not only for the hotness, but at them

I raise my voice and I know who I am

To convert them a short time before dying.                                     165

Protect the mansions, don't ask God for you

To take most care of the august benches

Of self-governing people, when in many

Endlessly you give in to a holiday

Punctuated with heroes, then with the dead                                     170

Become witnesses in your stead acting.

I put my trust in God who at his time

The hearts can sure conquers but everyone

Must guard and keep safe the town, you, rulers,

Now got back home, just as soon as being met                                 175

This full-length sun falling off the horizon

At the Pillars of Hercules, please think

Of kinder and more humane lot, a flash

Entitle it by the name of the brethren

Passed out to the next world. And remember.                                 180

GIOVANNI

From up here I see that amazing isle

Luxuriant and harsh isle, her volcano

And the ancient temples house-stifled, On the stages

They talk of heroes, but among the crowd

On everyone's lips your name is and mine.                                 185

Clearly I see large masses and their course

Not hasty forward moves and puts to flight

Rare characters shouldering their long rifles

Who uselessly beseech those very few

Not them to abandon, by degrees slowly                                         190

They disappear from eight perhaps they go

Seeping into the soil creeping like worms,

There is no sound of bravoes and of threats

Of which disturbed me a bit the buzzing

And hurt the thoughts, I hear on the contrary                                    195

The voice of the others, the dear friends

Who plan now houses for the coming time

And who dream of peace days, then somebody

Rise& on their behalf and In detail

Gives minute account of those days, that crowd                                 200

Tells fair honest upright words which have strength

And so obscure, so mysterious a sty le

Consisting of names and maybe faces

Just as we expected then. You remember

Such quiet, peaceful evenings, notwithstanding                                     205

Arms and barbed-wire fences when together

To each other we would talk on justice

Word become incarnate, about Sicily

The place where we were born, my lovely house...

PAOLO

I like to remind, for this reason still                                                     210

The air I revive I was torn up from

And was populated with my children

I'm waiting and silent, yet understand

What is being plotted in the streets and planned

And that answers a masterpiece of yours,                                            215

As we were playing we did keep paces

High pleased that evening to be victorious.

After it has come true, we'll be allowed

To forget our matters: and that we willed.

CHORUS

Round the monuments motion starts again                                         220

And splendid sumptuous fountains where water

Reached and came out at the potentates' call

When in the furrows the green of seed-plants

Grow chalky and dried up and lost all hope

The impotent plowman who at night wandered                                   225

Exhausted and weary to pay attention

And spy on death fixed in compliance

With those who far were, favoured and shielded

By respectful names and sawn-off shotguns.

Now water flows, but the unknown wrongdoers                                 230

Whose names the obedient servants low utter

Ask by lifting a finger and control

The flow of the death; in the rich orchards

All round the main town, with productive soil

Which ripens sweet tomatoes on-trickling                                             235

Heat of the aunt are being built at random

Absurd skyscraper, flat terraced houses

Imposed by bosses an in the middle ages

Small houses and huts encircling the castle

That each was inclined top but each did know,                                     240

The air and the earth, the bridges and work

Among you without being yours: then subjects

While the knoll of the millennium's tolling

And your brain so grieved in lacking in dream

That sometimes does pretend not to have got,                                     245

Thou yesterday you saw, Today they are

Upon a tree, in a shriek of terror

Calmed down in the brilliant vivid design

Of your pact, Itself revealed in the face.

Their native lymph, their inborn sap, the calm                                     250

Which provides thorough knowledge of the death

And a flash of the eyes an for the life

The dead because of all of us doubting

To call the dear land of our ancestors

By its own name, rightless usurped and live,                                     255

We don't have knowledge of them, as they've had

Interrupted by the abuse their thread

Which only God's allowed, but you hear them

Walk through the gardens and of gardens are made

Coasts of Sicily and you hear them call                                             260

All friends aside aware and disclosing

How the coming millennium will have but

Memory of the see ed despised powder

Of the mafia's scraps and fragments, unnamed

But as heinous bastards. Sure of them all                                          265

Paolo Giovanni Carlo Alberto Antonio

In memory among us, to give life

All that does allow those who still remain

The stiff and grave shade. To call to witness

In our sight, in every place, at night.                                                     270


(translated by Benito POGGIO, 1995)

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