soloillustratori

soloillustratori

domenica 16 dicembre 2018

Gary Patterson



























1 commento:

  1. La Gatta...

    Era una gatta, assai trita, e non era
    d’alcuno, e, vecchia, aveva un suo gattino.
    Ora, una notte, (su per il camino
    s’ingolfava e rombava la bufera)

    trassemi all’uscio il suon d’una preghiera,
    e lei vidi e il suo figlio a lei vicino.
    Mi spinse ella, in un dolce atto, il meschino
    tra’ piedi; e sparve nella notte nera.

    Che notte nera, piena di dolore!
    Pianti e singulti e risa pazze e tetri
    urli portava dai deserti il vento.

    E la pioggia cadea, vasto fragore,
    sferzando i muri e scoppiettando ai vetri.
    Facea le fusa il piccolo, contento....

    The Cat...

    There was a cat, very trite, and it wasn’t
    Anybodies, and, old, it had its kitten.
    Now, one night, (up the chimney
    the storm gushed and roared)

    the sound of a prayer drew me to the door
    And I saw her and her kit next to her
    She sweetly pushed the wretched thing
    Between my feet and disappeared into the black night.

    What a black night, full of pain!
    Tears and sobs and mad laughter and dark
    Howls brought in from the desert wind.

    And the rain was falling, huge roars
    Whipping the house walls and rattling the windows.
    The little one was purring, contented...

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