Journal of Italian Translation

Adria Bernardi/Raffaello Baldini
he’s zeroed in on him: “Will you grant us this honor?
We have here among us an artist of first order”
he shouted, “Italo, you are magnificent!”
and Italo stood up, he nodded yes,
he walked to the front,
he closed his eyes, “Una furtive lacrima,”
he didn’t hit a single note, people were shouting, Bravo! Bravissimo!
they didn’t even let him finish, they wanted an encore:
“Che gelida manina!” “No!” from another row
others were yelling out: “Fin che la barca va!” “Mamma!” It was a
zoo,
you couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying,
one guy had flashlight, in the hall, slashing it around like a knife,
someone else answered with another flashlight,
making lightening bolts in the dark,
there was even more of a ruckus,
so Goffredino turned on the lights,
but that made it worse, in the balcony they started
stomping their feet: “We want our money back!”
it was chaos, the light bulbs were flickering,
some of the hotheads down there were coming to blows,
some of the old people got up and scurried out, their heads bent over,
coats draped over their arms,
we were completely silent up on the stage, watching,
he was watching too, then he strutted out:
“All eyes on me!” with that smirk, “Everyone stop!
Cease! This is an order!” and at that exact moment
a crash onstage and all this spattering,
what’s going on? they’d thrown a bag of water,
then another, and another, my pals, I said:
Hey! what do you think you’re doing throwing it here?
oh but they thought it was just fine,
water, bags, great fun,
they were horsing around, they started lifting the chairs
over their heads, for protection, the legs turned up,
another bag, the redhead pointed a finger:
“Giorgio! I saw you!” whistles from above:
“Referee! Are you blind? Do you need glasses?” then everything
pelted down,
pieces of carob, apple cores, banana peels, orange peels, a can of Fanta,
a barrage, which if you were to get hit, and this? you filthy pigs,
it’s not water, and where is he? oh, there he was,
his ears all slick and shiny from his hair cream,
sweating, with his crooked bowtie,
“It’s really coming down now, it’s time to make a break for it,”
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