Reminds me of a carefree period of my life, the years of middle school.
When some teacher was absent, often prof. Italian language was in our class and began to recite his favorite poem ... (and later in my) were''The mare reverses'' Breus''and''.
I have appreciated the time and I have not forgotten ...
Breus
I was living with his mother in Cornwall
startled one day in the bush.
the bush one day, including turkey and turkey
saw a man go all iron.
Morvan thought it was San Michele:
knelt: "Lord St. Michael
not hurt me, for God's sake."
"Neither am I bad or am I St. Michel.
No: St. Michael, I can not call me
cavalier, yes: I am knight of arms."
"A Knight? But what do I look at
or child and you know what "
" What is your long heavy wood? "
" The spear is thirsty, and where he arrives, he drinks. "
" That's MISUSE of which you are pregnant? ".
" Sword if you win, cross if you won. "
" What clothes? The dress is heavy and hard. "
" E 'iron. Son, this is the armor. "
" And you were born already well covered? ".
laughed and said the knights," No, of course. "
" And who put it thus you wearing? ".
"Who can". "Who?". "But, my dear son, the king".
II
The boy returned to his mother,
and jumped on his knees, "Mommy, mommy
(chirped) you do not know!
I saw what I never saw!
a nice man who is more than
San Michele church, between the glow of the candles. "
" There is most beautiful man, my son,
better looking, no, an angel of God. "
"But yes, there, Mom, if you do, there
mother, are said Cavalier.
And I, Mummy, I want to go with them, and have
as iron and gold spurs.
The mother fell to the ground as if dead, Morvan
already walked out the door;
Morvan came out and wheeled away,
and went straight to the stables;
found only one horse in the stables: the
broke up, sat on it: way.
he departed, he greeted
person out there it is, here beating and spurs:
here it is already far from the castle,
behind the man, who was so beautiful.
III
After ten years, ten in one piece,
Breus, the knight of knights,
paused thoughtfully forward to that castle.
was rotten and broke the bridge.
came thoughtfully in the old court:
tant'erba was, there was a lot of nettles. The Thorn
you waxed greater as a hedge,
and the wall was full of cracks.
The ivy had invaded the wall:
the grass covering the threshold of the house.
And the door was sad to impose and mo '
tomb. He beat her, beat her, beat ..
is finally a woman, here is a woman
old and blind, who opened it. "You, Grandma, I can
choices for tonight?".
"Hotels can be for you tonight,
hotel you can with all my heart,
but the hotel is perhaps not the best.
that this house is all
abandoned by her son left, ten years ago" .
was down a maiden to time,
you just looked at him, burst into tears.
IV
"Why are you crying, good maid?
weep because, dear young lady?".
"I want to tell you, sir knight,
I want to tell you, that makes me ache.
And 'my brother
that ten years ago (now is your age),
left us to become a knight.
I cry when I see a knight.
If I see a knight at the castle,
cry thinking of my sweet brother. "
" You do not have his mother or maid?
not another brother? a sister? ".
" No one ... at least I see them on their faces
son, brothers and sisters in paradise.
My mother died of grief when it
'left to become a knight.
Here is his bed at the limit, here
his seat near the fire. Its port
cross over me.
for my poor heart no more. "
V
Mise a sob the knight at once.
She raised her pale face disfigured. The maid stood in wonder
eyes had tears on the eyelashes.
"God mom you still took it
c'ora cry, that m'avete Understanding?".
"Even my mother took me to God;
but he said: Take it! I am."
"You?" Who are you? What is your name? ".
"Morvan's name, the nickname Breus.
, Sister, I am full of glory:
every day, I counted a victory
but if I could guess that day,
that I would not have seen on my return, or sister
I would not have left!
or sister, I would not have escaped!
Oh, to see qui sul limitare,
per rivederla presso il focolare,
per abbracciare qui con te pur lei
le mie vittorie tutte le darei:
sarei felice, pur ch'a lei vicino,
di strigliar tuttavia quel mio ronzino!".
Giovanni Pascoli
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