Is ventriloco

If you believe this, six 'no fool, sorry;
little 'is' a homo talk co’ the people
ne eats tummy internally
ciavesse quarche machina arinchiusa?
Nun believe that in an era that still used
of he opened his mouth without’ May gnente
there 'I'm living phenomenon
He says so many things with his mouth closed!
Talk heart belly! Oh yes this which is bella!
Sortanto er poor nun magna
if he feels ago’ Glug-glug it guts.
myself, speciarmente a fin de mese,
I feel that if the stomach complains…
But you know ched'è? The voice der Country!
Poems by Trilussa.

Matches amorous

Lui se firma Mughetto e lei Viola
je sur newspaper writes, I know I:
but spoken nun, on’ l'love It Gave,
It gives me license to the Spanish.

If the paga’ baiocchi the word;
a day that je wrote: My idol!
Aspetterotti, bacerotti, goodbye,
you know what expenses? Only half a lira.

His, before, annava a home; give time
ch'er bud he noticed it, they began
a daje co’ the payment notices.

And if I miss mo er husband imagines
that queli dua, co’ Deaf few days ar,
je Metten horns fourth paggina.
Poems by Trilussa.

A chi tanto e a chi gnente!

From quanno that shows signs of insanity,
poor Meo! feel sorry! It Became
pale, dry dry, allampanato,
stuff that if you see him run away!
er doctor told me: – It 'na mania
that if some nun cured: he has become affissato
d’esse un poeta, of them a man of letters,
which is the worst thing that there is! –
Says ch'er great talent was to
j'ha that upset some’ about mind
on’ Via de der brain development…
Poor Meo! If instead of these crazy
he stayed only a fool,
Who knows if that name would be made!
Poems by Trilussa.

Issues de Breeds

What do you know if pressed’ nati in Ghetto,
if cianno belief diferente?
The breed? er blood? And who decides? Gnente,
Because I know’ interested? IS’ drink a defect!

For each ajutasse
any faith deserves respect:
Pure Luther together co’ Mohammed
It protects them Christians of the East!

And Isaac m'impresta them quatrini
to eighty percent and er pledge in hand?
Happy nun nego: er is king of them loan sharks;

but in the meantime you rifretti ar case my:
if road fa’ 'To life da cristiano
recourse must be a giudìo!

Poems by Trilussa.


You know ched'è statistics? It is na’ thing
It needs an account in general eg ago
of people born, that is male,
that blackberries, ranging in prison and married.

But pè me curious statistic
is where does the percentage,
As pè, there,the average is always equal
puro co’ the person in need.

Me explain: to count them that if they do
seconno the statistics now
risurta that you touch a chicken a year:

is, if nun enters your expense,
t'entra it the statistic the same
because she is a cave that two magna.
Poems by Trilussa.

Is teppista

You think I'm a monarchist? On’ gnente
I care? And needless Socialist
Republican? At all! I know’ teppista
is, on’ de more, thug intransiggente

Grumbled, exploit, I er bully
capitalist and proletarian heart heart
Caccia er stable, meno all’imprevista
magnum and payment nun and caused people

se me capita, shambles: and spit en face
gave the, a li preti, a li sordati…
Nun but I believe that much bojaccia

I know more honest, So when Semo ar
of all 'sti thugs ariparati
de behind 'na any policy
Poems by Trilussa.

The Cecala today

A Cecala, that Pijava er fresh
all’shadow der grispigno and de nettle,
on’ the’ la cojonella a ‘na Formica
She sang 'I refrain Roman:
– Flower of bread,
I I enjoy, singing and I'm just fine,
and instead you do hard work as a cane.
– Eh! which ar da beautiful vede this corre poco:
– said the Ant –
nun t’hai da crede mica
ch'er sun is hot as always er fire!
Amomenti will be the north wind:
Grim, stacce careful… –
Quanno winter came
the ant if it closed the den.
but, ner felt that Cecala friend
followed by singing happy tutta,
USCIS outside je e disse: – still singing?
still nu’ the plant?
– I? – He made the Cecala – needless to say it:
quer I was doing before I do now;
mó what lover: I want mantiè Cricket
'I'm in June me was always below.
That dichi? honesty? The degree Cicia!
M’aricordo mi’ grandmother saying:
Who works CIA just a shirt,
e sai chi ce n’ha due? Chi se la leva.

Poems by Trilussa.

Er er mouse and rat de city de campaign

Trilussa – Poems last edit: Sunday,11 May 11:10, 2014 the nabladue

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