Ra Gerusalemme deliverà (18th cent.)

In 1755, the two-volume Ra Gerusalemme deliverà dro Signor Torquato Tasso traduta in lengua zeneize was published in Genoa. It was a Genoese version of Tasso’s masterpiece Jerusalem Delivered, by a team of urban scholars, directed by the poet Stefano De Franchi. It was a curious and unusual work, since the authors did not intend to perform a faithful translation of the Jerusalem – as Father Federico Gazzo would translate the Divine Comedy in its entirety in the following century – but neither was it a parody, a burlesque disguise, as had already been done in various other Italian languages. Instead, the 18th-century scholars wanted to substantially respect the intentions and narrative structure of Tasso’s work, but at the same time re-create it from a “Genoese” point of view; the entire chivalric poem is thus rewritten as a Genoese person of the time might have told it. Nor did the translators lack the intention to emulate and surpass the translations that had already appeared in other Italian idioms up to that time, as can be seen from a prefatory sonnet, which states:

Zeneixi, voî, che sei leze e pensâ,
lezei chì aproeuvo e dî vostro parei,
e se incontræ sgarroin a trei a trei,
fæghe röso, e lasciæri camminâ.

Quando penso a quest’oeuvera stampâ,
tremmo tutto e me ven gianco ro pei,
ma ri atre traduzioin se passo a vei,
me comenso ciù tosto a consolâ.

Ro Dottô, Pantalon, Xanni e Coviello
ro Tasso han sbarattaòu tutti in buffon,
e son stæti piaxùi da quest’e quello;

aoura se a dî bon’ombre è bello e bon
ro Caporâ Zeneize Darseniello
o starà à vei chi passa à ro barcon?

As if to say that if the other translations – into Bolognese (ro Dottô), Venetian (Pantalon), Bergamasque (Xanni), and Neapolitan (Coviello) – changed Tasso into a buffoon and were successful, the Genoese mask of Caporale could not lag behind, capable as he is of witty remarks. In spite of this premise, the comedic intonation only surfaces from time to time, in this Genoese version of Jerusalem Delivered, generally remaining far above other similar attempts, which were typical of a reflexive and generally uninteresting dialectalism. In fact, it can be said that the whole operation is part of the complex work undertaken by De Franchi to enrich the literature of Genoese expression with valid and up-to-date works, with a view to exalting the Genoese homeland. At a time of substantial political decadence for the Republic of Genoa, as was the 18th century, some intellectuals felt the need to recompose the social classes around the nobility, reviving patriotic sentiment. For this purpose, literature in Genoese seemed a particularly suitable tool, due to the identitarian use that had been made of it over the centuries. De Franchi thus wanted to be the poet of the “Naçion Zeneise” (Genoese Nation), advocating, among other things, moderate corrections to a now sclerotic secular, social and political order, to which he addresses moderate criticism in his comedies. De Franchi’s was certainly a strongly paternalistic conception of the state, but the supposedly popular style in which he expressed it did not fail to influence numerous authors, most of them anonymous and Jacobin-inspired, who would appear at the end of the century. As for the translation of the Jerusalem, the political motive is to be found, in particular, in the exaltation of the contribution made at the time by the Genoese to the reconquest of the Holy Land, on which a whole series of legends and traditions had already flourished, linked to the figure of Guglielmo Embriaco, “the Ligurian doge, who once upon a time / crossed the seas as their master”. Seven different poets – Stefano De Franchi, Ambrogio Conti, Gaetano Gallino, Paolo Toso, Giacomo Guidi, Gian Agostino Gastaldi and Francesco Maria Viceti – gave their version of the twenty cantos of Jerusalem Delivered, strictly respecting the same number of octaves as in the original, sometimes keeping very close to the text, sometimes lowering the tone to remain faithful to a Ligurian spirit that is all concreteness and practicality, and sometimes again creating completely new pieces of poetry.

Consider the octaves – in Ambrogio Conti’s version – in which the figure of Columbus is commemorated (15, 31–32):

Un de testa e de coeu vero Zeneize
se metterà ro primmo a sto çimento,
nì sûô, nì perigo, nì conteize
d’arie diverse, o sferradoì de vento
a st’ommo fæto apposta per st’impreize
ghe metteran ro minimo spavento.
Lê sciortirà da tutto, e per sò groria
Zena averà de ciù sta gran memoria.

Ah, Corombo, Corombo! Ti ti ê quello,
a chi deve toccâ sta bella, sciorte:
ti svoeureræ per chì comm’un’oxello:
te laoderà ra famma in vitta e in morte;
a ti te toccherà sto bell’anello,
d’Ercole e Bacco t’arviræ re porte.
Dirà ro tempo sempre andando approeuvo:
Corombo ha azonto a un mondo un mondo noeuvo.

In Canto 7, translated by Stefano De Franchi, the similarity of the eels caught in the Comacchio valleys is portrayed closer to the experience of the Genoese, in a coastal setting, with reference to the tuna fishery of Portofino.

Giusto comme là verso Portofin,
ri tonni intr’a marinn-a fan bombæa,
accompagnæ da un stroeuppo de Delfin,
che ri pòrtan prexon là intr’a tonnæa;
e comme ri han ghiæ, fin a i confin,
ri lascian sença accorzese in bregæa;
e coscì lì serræ bon pro ghe fasse,
poeuran sunnâ luçia con quattro casse.

In Canto 12 (octaves 62–69) we have the death of Clorinda, in Paolo Toso’s version. The drama of the situation is properly portrayed, with depth of feeling:

Torna l’odio intr’i coeu, e ri trasporta
senza poei ciù stâ drïti à ra battaggia,
dove l’arte, e ra forza è quæxi morta,
dove combatte in loeugo sò ra raggia.
O quanto grande e spaventosa porta
fa l’unna, e l’âtra spâ, s’a ponze, o taggia
re arme, o pù ra carne! e se non moeuran
l’é che ro sdegno e ro venin non voeuran.

Comme ro mâ, quando çessaòu ro vento,
che primma ro scommosse in âto in basso,
non se queta però, ma ro spavento
conserva ancon dro moto, e dro fracasso;
così quantunque con ro sangue spento
allò ghe manche ro vigô dro brasso;
pù dall’ira animæ tornan sti chìe
a refâ ciù profonde re ferìe.

Ma zoeu moæ arriva ro fatale fin
a ra brava Clorinda destinaou.
Ra spâ ghe ficca in mezo dri tettin,
che in passâri se fa de sangue un sciaou,
e ro vestî traponto d’oro fin
tutto resta de questo imbernissaou.
Ra poveretta, che sta in pê ciù appenna
ro coeu sente mancâse, e ghe ven penna.

Lê segue ra vittoria, e de tâ menna,
strenze Clorinda senza usâ pietæ,
che ra meschinna cazze, e poeu ciù appenna
l’ùrtima profferî sò vorentæ,
che allora in mente un bon penscêo ghe menna
de Fede, de Speranza e Caritæ,
Virtù, che Dio gh’infonde, e se unna liggia
fu mentre a visse, ra voeu in morte figgia.

Te daggo ro perdon: ti hæ vinto, amigo:
perdonname ti assì: non ro demando
per questo corpo, che n’importa un figo,
l’annima sola mi te raccomando,
dagghe battæsmo, e lévera d’intrigo.
In questa voxe, che lê va formando
o sente un non so che, che l’odio franze,
e fa che questo se converte in cianze.

Poco lontan de lì scorre da un monte
tutto fresco d’argento un rianetto:
gh’andò Tancredi e l’elmo impì intr’ro fonte,
e tornò a fâ l’uffizio benedetto
sentì tremâ ra man, mentre d’in fronte,
per battezzâra ghe levò l’elmetto.
Ra vidde, ra conobbe: ah, restò senza
e voxe e moto! Ah, vista! Ah, conoscenza!

Non morì zà, che tutta in quell’instante
ra forza addoeuverò che ghe restava,
e se misse unna vitta ciù constante
a dâ con l’ægua a chi ra morte o dava;
mentre che o dixe re parolle sante,
lê tutta d’allegrezza giubbilava,
e pâ, che tanto de morî ghe piaxe,
che a dixe, votta in çê, mi vaggo in paxe.

Ra pallidezza sciù ra gianca cera
pâ un intreçço de livii, e viovetta.
In çê a ten fissi ri oeuggi, e ra carera
ro Sô per veira in poco manco affretta:
e verso quello alzando in ra manera
che a poeu ra bella man freida, e smortetta,
ghe dà pegno de paxe, e in queste forme
passa ra bella donna e pâ ch’a dorme.