festa della Toscana

Anche questo mese è giunto al termine, e proprio oggi 30 novembre, si festeggia la mia regione. Sì, oggi è la "Festa della Toscana".

Una festa di una regione ma che vuole essere un simbolo per chiunque creda nei valori della pace e della giustizia (quella giusta, che non è nè buona, nè cattiva, ma umana). 

Il 30 novembre 1786 la Toscana, per volontà di Pietro Leopoldo di Lorena (il nostro "canapone"!) fece fare un passo avanti all'umanità, abolendo la pena di morte (e quindi anche la tortura). Secondo il Granduca adatta solo ai popoli barbari, così era nel 1786 e così lo è ancora... Purtroppo questo esempio non è stato seguito da tutti, e noi tutti: toscani, italiani, cittadini del mondo dovremmo imparare a distinguere gli Stati civili da quelli incivili, e per farlo dobbiamo osservare e andare in profondità, non basta leggere i comunicati stampa dei nostri colonizzatori.

Ma oggi parliamo della Toscana, è la sua festa!!!

Curzio Malaparte si è chiesto (e forse risposto!) in "Maledetti Toscani" che cosa sarebbe stato dell'Italia se ha farla fossimo stati noi..

Ma l'Italia non è stata fatta dai Toscani.

Noi ci siamo limitati a dare un esempio, a morire a vent'anni per un'idea astratta, gli abbiamo dato una lingua e un'esempio di tolleranza (anche oggi, quando italiani di altre regioni parlano di fronte a noi i loro dialetti e noi non capiamo nulla!!! mentre il toscano lo capiscono tutti e per questo non abbiamo segreti..).

Imperfetti, divisi all'inverosimile, amanti dell'ironia e del sole eppure anche dell'ombra e della solitudine. Toscani di mare, di montagna (a volte aspre come lame verso il cielo, talvolta dolci e rotonde come colline disegnate da un bimbo), di città, ma molto più spesso orfani di campagne e terre così fertili e generose, che l'averle trasformate in pianure di cemento ci ha reso stranieri a noi stessi.

Ecco, mi fermo. La festa della Toscana ora mi fa un po' tristezza, abbiamo dato molto alla storia e ora non siamo più niente, in questo giorno così grigio per la verità c'è poco da festeggiare, oggi c'è poco da stare allegri, ma ieri è stato un giorno migliore. Nella città dove sono nata, dove scorre il fiume, dove arriva l'aria di mare e dove resiste ancora un po' di bellezza... Da qui un futuro (non troppo lontano) più giusto per tutti i popoli, questo è il motivo per cui esiste questa celebrazione.

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Also this month came to an end, and today 30 November, is celebrated my region. Yes, today is the "Festa della Toscana".

A celebration of a region but who wants to be a symbol for anyone who believes in the values ​​of peace and justice (the right one, which is neither good nor bad, but human).

The November 30, 1786 Tuscany, at the behest of Peter Leopold of Lorraine (our "canapone"!) Did take a step forward for humanity, abolishing the death penalty (and therefore also the torture). According to the Grand Duke suitable only to barbaric peoples, so it was in 1786 and it still is ... Unfortunately, this example was not followed by all, and all of us: Tuscan, Italian, citizens of the world should learn to distinguish civilians from the United those uncivilized, and to do that we have to observe and go deep, not just read the press releases of our colonizers.

But today we talk of Tuscany, is his party !!!

Curzio Malaparte was asked (and possibly answered!) In "Cursed Tuscans" what would be Italy if it were us ..

But Italy was not made by Toscani.

We limited ourselves to set an example, to die at twenty for an abstract idea, we gave him a language and an example of tolerance (even today, when Italians from other regions speak in front of us and their dialects we do not understand anything !!! while the Tuscan understand it all and we have no secrets ..).

Imperfect, divided to capacity, lovers of irony and yet even the shadow of the sun and solitude. Tuscan sea, mountain (sometimes sharp as blades toward the sky, sometimes sweet and round like hills designed by a child), to the city, but more often orphans campaigns and lands so fertile and generous, that transformed them in the plains of cement he made us strangers to ourselves.

Here, I stop. The feast of Tuscany now makes me a little 'sad, we gave a lot to the history and now we are no longer anything, on this day so gray for the truth there is little to celebrate, today there is little to be happy, but yesterday It was a better day. In the city where I was born, where the river, where it comes from the sea air and where still resists a bit 'of beauty ... From here the future (not too far) right for all people, that is the reason so there is this celebration that still sounds like a wish and a hope.

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También este mes llegó a su fin, y hoy 30 de noviembre se celebra mi región. Sí, hoy es la "Festa della Toscana".

Una celebración de una región, sino que quiere ser un símbolo para todo aquel que cree en los valores de la paz y la justicia (el derecho, que no es ni bueno ni malo, pero humano).

El 30 de noviembre 1786 la Toscana, a instancias de Pedro Leopoldo de Lorena (nuestro "Canapone"!) Hizo dar un paso adelante para la humanidad, la abolición de la pena de muerte (y por tanto también la tortura). De acuerdo con el Gran Duque adecuado sólo para los pueblos bárbaros, por lo que fue en 1786 y todavía se ... Por desgracia, este ejemplo no fue seguido por todos, y todos nosotros: la Toscana, Italia, los ciudadanos del mundo debe aprender a distinguir civiles de los Estados los incivilizados, y para ello tenemos que observar y profundizar, no sólo leer los comunicados de prensa de nuestros colonizadores.

Pero hoy hablamos de la Toscana, es su partido !!!

Curzio Malaparte se le pidió (y posiblemente respondió!) En "Cursed toscanos" ¿Cuál sería Italia si nosotros estábamos ..

Pero Italia no fue hecha por Toscani.

Nos limitamos dar ejemplo, a morir a los veinte años de una idea abstracta, que le dimos un lenguaje y un ejemplo de tolerancia (incluso hoy en día, cuando los italianos de otras regiones hablan delante de nosotros y sus dialectos que no entendemos nada! !! mientras que el toscano entenderlo todo y no tenemos secretos ..).

Imperfecto, dividido a la capacidad, los amantes de la ironía y sin embargo, incluso la sombra del sol y de la soledad. Mar de la Toscana, montaña (a veces agudo como cuchillas hacia el cielo, a veces dulce y redondo como colinas diseñado por un niño), a la ciudad, pero más a menudo huérfanos campañas y tierras tan fértiles y generosas, que los transformó en los llanos de cemento que nos hizo extraños a nosotros mismos.

Aquí, me detengo. La fiesta de la Toscana ahora me hace un poco "triste, le dimos mucho a la historia y ahora no somos nada más, en este día tan gris por la verdad que hay poco que celebrar, hoy hay poco para ser feliz, pero Ayer fue un día mejor. En la ciudad donde nací, donde el río, de donde viene el aire del mar y donde todavía se resiste un poco "de la belleza ... A partir de aquí el futuro (no demasiado) el derecho de todas las personas, esa es la razón por la que hay esta celebración que todavía suena como un deseo y una esperanza.

a lovely Sunday (WAITING FOR THE CAT AND THE FOX)

Then the puppet, lost his nerve, was just about to throw himself on the ground and giving up, when he saw in the eyes turn around between the middle of the dark green of the trees in the distance a small house whitening white as snow.

"If I have enough breath to reach that house, I may be saved," he said to himself.

Not waiting a minute began to run through the woods in career expanse. The assassins always behind.

And after a race of almost two hours, finally he arrived panting at the door of the cottage and knocked.

No one answered.

He knocked again, harder than before, because he felt approaching footsteps and breathing heavy and labored de 'his persecutors.

The same silence.

Perceiving that the knock did not help anything, he began in desperation to kick and bang against the door. Then looked out the window a beautiful little girl, with blue hair and his face white as wax, eyes closed and hands crossed on his chest, which point without moving his lips, he said in a voice that seemed to come from ' another world:

"In this house there is no one. They're all dead."

"Open to me at least you!" He shouted Pinocchio, crying and beseeching.

"I'm dead too."

"Dead? And then what do you do there at the window?"

"I am waiting for the coffin to take me away." Just said so, the girl disappeared, and the window closed without a sound.

"O beautiful girl with blue hair, shouted Pinocchio; open to me please! Have pity on a poor boy chased by murderers ..."

But he could not finish the word, because he felt clinging to the neck, and the usual two vociaccie he growled menacingly:

"Now we have you more!"

The Marionette, seeing death before his eyes, was seized by a trembling so hard that the trembling, sounded the joints of his wooden legs and four gold pieces that he kept hidden under his tongue.

"So?" they asked the killers, "will you open your mouth, yes or no? Ah, do not you answer? ... Leave it: this time you shall open it! ..."

It pulled out two knives long, sharp as razors, Marionette ... they struck two heavy blows on the kidneys.

But luckily for him, the puppet was made of very hard wood, which is why the knives, broke into a thousand pieces and the murderers remained with the handle of the knife in his hand, staring at each other.

"I get it, he said one of them, you have to hang him! Impicchiamolo!"

"Impicchiamolo," repeated the other.

Having said that, they tied his hands behind his back and passed to a noose around the throat, attacked him dangling from the branch of a big tree called the Big Oak.

Then they put there, sitting on the grass, waiting for the puppet did last struggle, but the puppet, after three hours, always had his eyes open, his mouth shut and kicking more than ever.

Finally bored of waiting, they turned to Pinocchio and said, laughing:

"Goodbye until tomorrow. When we return here, hopefully you'll be polite enough to let us find you'll be dead and with his mouth wide open."

And they left.

Meanwhile a strong wind had risen to the north, to blow and roar angrily, rattling here and there the poor hanged, making him swing violently like the clapper of a bell ringing for a wedding. And the swinging him atrocious spasms, and the noose, becoming still tighter to her throat, she took his breath away.

Gradually his eyes misted; and although he felt death approaching, yet still hoped that at any moment it would be some good soul to give him help. But when, after waiting and waiting, he saw that no one came, no one, then he remembered his poor father was dying ... and stammered:

"Oh my father! If you were here! ..."

And he had no breath to say no more. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, stretched his legs, gave a long shudder, and hung stiff and insensible.

cap.15

The killers chase Pinocchio; and, having reached, they hang him from a branch of the Big Oak.

Quante volte vi ho portato qui?! troppe! Ma è un posto così vicino, comodo e pieno di bellezza e tranquillità, cosa posso farci se mi piace e se sono terribilmente noiosa?! Poi se nei dintorni c'è un ottimo ristorante... Lo capite che diventa il posto idelae per un pranzo tranquillo in una domenica un po' pigra?! 

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How many times have I brought here ?! too many! But it is a place so close, comfortable and full of beauty and tranquility, what can I do if I like it and if you are terribly boring ?! Then if the neighborhood is a great restaurant ... I understand that it becomes the place ideal for getting to a quiet lunch on a Sunday a bit 'lazy ?!

In questi luoghi molto spesso veniva a passeggiare Carlo Collodi, è qui che trovò ispirazioni per il suo romanzo più celebre (forse il libro più famoso e letto nel mondo!): Pinocchio- storia di un burattino. E guardando queste illustrazioni di Giuliano Cenci (autore del film dedicato a Pinocchio del 1971, una versione molto toscana, con la canzone iniziale cantata da Renato Rascel) trovo molta somiglianza con questi boschi, soprattutto ora in autunno..

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In these places very often it came to walk Carlo Collodi, this is where he found inspiration for his most famous novel (perhaps the most famous book in the world and read!): Pinocchio- story of a puppet. And looking at these pictures of Giuliano Cenci (author of the film dedicated to Pinocchio 1971) I find a lot of similarity with these woods, especially now in the autumn ..

Insomma, questa è la Quercia Grande a cui il famoso burattino fu impiccato, intanto che ciondola noi andiamo a mangiare e si sa..

Studio e discussione del menù, che è una cosa seria!

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In short, this is the Big Oak in the famous puppet was hanged, while dangling we go to eat and you know ..

Study and discussion of the menu, which is a serious matter!

Un pranzo degno di Pinocchio! Che sappiamo bene quanto amasse mangiare, bere e dormire! Evviva "Il Toti" ... un posto unico!

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A dinner worthy of Pinocchio! That we know how much he loved to eat, drink and sleep! Long live "The Toti" ... a unique place!

Tornati a casa decidiamo di stare tranquilli al caldo, ma... Cosa accade fuori? Il teatro degli... elicotteri?! Corriamo di nuovo fuori!
Pinocchio siamo noi!

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Back home we decide to rest easy in the heat, but ... What is going on outside? The theater of ... helicopters ?! We run out again! Pinocchio's us!

brano tratto da "PINOCCHIO" di Carlo Collodi