Proverbi siciliani - Sicilian Proverbs

Tutti li cosi vannu a lu pinninu Ed a lu peju 'un cci si 'nclina ognunu A cu' duna a cu' leva lu distinu E nun cci pari mai lu nostru dunu Nun curri paru lu nostru caminu Pocu cridi lu saggiu a l'importunu Lu riccu mancu cridi a lu mischinu Lu saziu nun cridi a lu dijunu Pi troppu ventu lu vasceddu sferra Pi la gran frevi lu malatu sparla '’assai cunsigli si perdi la guerra E pi tanti giudizii si sgarra Lauda lu mari e teniti a la terra Pensa la cosa prima ca si sparla Pirchì haju 'ntisu diri a la me terra Cu' fa li cosi giusti mai li sgarra A chianciri figliuzza chi cci cavi Lu sangu t'arribbelli e po' muriri Pacenzia ci voli a li burraschi Ca nun si mancia meli senza muschi Ma cu' du' lepri voli assicutari Né unu je né l’autru po' aggarrari Ma cu nun fa lu gruppu a la gugliata Perdi lu cuntu cchiùi di 'na vota Cci dissi lu jadduzzu a la puddastra Tuttu lu munnu è comu casa nostra Cci dissi la padedda a la gradiglia Haju pisci grossi, mancia, e no fragaglia Accosta veni cca mancia carduna Ca a lu casteddu mancianu picciuna 'Rispunni e dici lu ziu Nicola Si la pignata 'un vuddi nun si cala Lu picuraru ca fa la ricotta Lu sapi iddu l'amici ca aspetta La furca nun è fatta pi lu riccu È fatta pi la testa di lu porcu E...ni la testa d'un maiali Eu ci manci tu ci sciali Ni la testa d'un cunigliu Nenti lassu e nenti pigliu Timpirateddu ti vivi lu vinu Ca ti teni lu stomacu ntonu Cu' ammucciau lu latinu Fu 'gnuranza di parrinu 'Un cc'è festa e né fistinu Si ’un c’è un monacu e un parrinu Ma lu monacu dâ Badia A Gesù lu patrunia Cc'è la monica di casa A Gesù lu stringi e vasa Ni la casa di Gesù Nzoccu trasi 'un nesci cchiù Ma cu' havi 'na bona vigna Havi pani, vinu e ligna E lu trivuli e lu beni Cu' cci l'havi si lu teni Quannu chiovi di matina Pigghia l'aratu e va' simina Quannu veni lu giugnettu Lu furmentu sutta lu lettu Ma la luna di jinnaru Luci comu jornu chiaru Signuruzzu chiuviti chiuviti Ca 'i lavureddi su' morti di siti E si acqua 'un nni mannati Semu persi e cunsumati L'acqua di 'ncelu sazìa la terra Funti piena di pietà Li nostri lacrimi posanu 'nterra E Diu nni fa la carità Nesci, nesci suli, suli Pi lu santu Sarvaturi 'Etta un pugnu di nuciddi Arricrìa li picciriddi 'Etta un pugnu di dinari Arricrìa li cristiani 'Etta un pugnu di fumeri Arricrìa li cavaleri Traditional

Everything goes to the bottom and at worst no one resigns himself - to some, destiny gives, and from others it takes, and we never know what is ours. Our road doesn’t run straight, the sage believes little in the importuner, the rich hardly believes in the wretched, the sated doesn’t believe in fasting. For too much wind the vessel swerves, for a high fever the patient badmouths, for lots of advice the war is lost, and for so many opinions one is misled. Praise the sea and keep feet firm on the land, think on it before speaking badly, because I’ve heard say in my land whoever does the right things is never fooled. For crying, dear daughter, what do you get? The blood boils, then you die. It takes patience in the storms because you don’t eat honey without flies. But whoever wants to follow two hares, neither one nor the other can he grab. But whoever doesn’t tie a knot with the needle loses the count more than once. Said the rooster to the hen, “All the world is like our home.” Said the pan to the grill, “I have big fish, eat! And not the offal.” “Pull over, come here, eat thistles, because at the castle they eat pigeons.” Uncle Nicola responds and says, “If the pot doesn’t boil, don’t pour the pasta.” The shepherd who makes the ricotta, he knows the friends who wait. The fork isn’t made for the rich, it’s made for the head of the swine. And . . . in the head of a pig, you eat and take great pleasure. In the head of a rabbit, I leave nothing, and no expression. Slowly you drink your wine because it keeps your stomach toned. Whoever lost the Latin was ignorance of the priest. There’s no festival or party if there’s no monk or priest. But the monk of the Abbey, to Jesus he calls him father. There’s the house nun, to Jesus she holds and kisses him. In the house of Jesus, whoever enters doesn’t go back out any more. Whoever has a fine vineyard has bread, wine, and wood, and regret and well-being, whoever has it if they keep it. When it rains in the morning, you take the plow and go to plant seeds. When July comes, wheat under the bed. But the moon of January shines like a bright day. Lord, make it rain, make it rain, because the Good Thursday bowls are dying of thirst and if you don’t send some water we are lost and worn-out. The water of heaven slakes the land, full fountain of mercy. Our tears fall on the land and God gives us charity. Come out, come out, sun, sun, for the Holy Savior. Throw a handful of nuts, enrich the children. Throw a handful of money, enrich the Christians. Throw a handful of fertilizer, enrich the gentlemen. English translation © 2023 Dennis Criteser Terra che non senti (Land That Doesn't Hear) was Balistreri's fourth album, released in 1972. The album was the first in a series on the Cetra label that presented traditional folkloric songs from various regions in Italy.