a my dear high school friend, whom I admire for many years, gave me permission to publish this beautiful story of Christmas ... ... he loves the Roman dialect
Leggetevela because it is beautiful!
The air that you speak
Ninni viette seat here, I'm close to that fool you, Gramps na Vole tale story ...
to feel the air that you speak, is the air I'm from the country, full de de memories and stories yet written.
There are the pure in your half, but still nun do you then account reindeer and perhaps not even feel it ... the air that you speak.
E 'from day quer cominceno the stories ... I know that then nun mia ma de tutti quelli che senteno l’aria che je parla e je racconta.
Si perché oggi spira er vento de montagna e t’ariviene in mente un capodanno ar paese quanno pella prima vorta sei arivato svejo alla mezzanotte e hai visto li fochi d’artificio partì dalla collina de fronte casa illuminà pè quarche attimo na notte sbrilluccherella de mille e mille stelle de monni lontani.
E’ l’aria che te parla quanno cammini distratto sotto casa, l’annusi e t’aritrovi a passà sotto a un ponticello de li vicoli stretti e bui der paesello tuo quanno da regazzino c’ereno solo tre lampare p’elluminallo tutto e la paura saliva gelida fino ar cervello che te diceva de rimanno:” Cori, you pious choirs sinn the black man ... "
You look around quickly disappears while the road that separates you from na meta de voyage, you just turn n'attimo eye, ear and Co The whispering fantasy that if people quer garden opens next cò de na de match de football played coll'amichi school quann'eri still small baby ... of course came home that Vorta was tough, presentatte a tu madre cò them pants ar novi broken knee. Mica or felt er pain of peeled ... You are only felt rebuke de tu madre o er and thought of the beating of your father in the evening ... quanno tired na returning from a day of work ... And they artri time, mo 'd be happy because they ciavresti trendy trousers.
C'ereno du cypress trees in garden granne quer, and soft ondeggiaveno quanno air shook them hard. It was the middle of the stage door, the one with the most beautiful stand der Monno made de na de Arberi shady green hill full. The door where everyone makes them Regazzini if \u200b\u200bvoleveno of paratroopers could eg: Palo! "Quanno ball bounced and hit them in the field. Sinn was still pure na Rants decide then had the ball passed over Golle quanno na bag or a jacket thrown in for tera is fake ... er pole
Now there's only one left ... de cypress. The arthro-time partner got lost, disappeared somewhere quanno games in a day without air cò who silently took it away pè forever.
The air that tells you about serious things pure. How quanno t'ariportava and words de na ita loved that she's young or old, a beloved grandfather or just n'amico away, gone away, however, always early, always before he could lapse into de head n'antro beautiful memories.
good and bad stories from them st'aria know that breathes fire all printed in brain nerve is put on the corner quer callus ar small fire near where I gathered all the people you loved him or you.
them there are pure moments that you wanted them to live as pure as a mere pebble or na mote from the barn ar ndo Monaghan was a special baby that remind me if I'm all de time. Er core Ciariapre pè they do more bono cò those that do know pure cò neighbors and those who miss conoscemo. There is pure Sorido was all black and there is only pure vedè er de rain is continuing.
Meanwhile, it absorbed me find them my thoughts, to review the slow lane where I met eg that Gramps m'apri quer er brain pè little inside I'm thinking dorce der Put us remember ... around me I see them ... er eo pe time he seems Esses stopped ... got so much to n'antro baby that tells that story long ago told me ... and I like to think that Gramps is quer population quer special baby who was born two thousand years ago ... most of which still ciariscalla co er core is its stories pe ... er mejo faces facing the future, it is full of unexpected facts novi, de bad ones from which we would both run away pè Dovell nun lives and those of us who piaceno so beautiful and we see that many Vorta miss them.
The air you speak, listen baby, that now you are grown, whether in pure, eg he always baby Ahriman.
Maurizio Fioravanti
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