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E RAGAIO' DE CAR - 100 KM del Passatore | Firenze - Faenza



(rope attachment stick that was in the back of the old ox-drawn carts)
by Luigi Rusticali

Joke in Romagna dialect of a participant in the 100Km Passatore di Russi (RA) who did not complete the race stopping at Borgo San Lorenzo. (May 26, 1978)


Fata testa cl’ha la zent
che cun poch alenament
la cred che arivér a Fèèza,
aviendas da Firèèza
travarsend tot la muntagna
d’in Tuscana, zò in Rumagna,
la sea com la pasigieda
o poc piò che una piseda.
What head does those people have?
than with little training
believes that getting to Faenza,
starting from Florence
crossing the whole mountain
from Tuscany to Romagna,
both as a walk
or a little more than a piss.
Quel ch’av stegh par racunté
(al né brisul dismité)
le e fatt d’chi tri incusciènt
che tra tott i cuncurrent
cun e zaian so in tla spala
i spereva d’fé la “Cola”.
What I’m going to tell you
(no nonsense)
it is the story of those three unconscious
than among all competitors
with a backpack on his shoulders
they hoped to overcome the Colla.
Arivé ch’a fosm’in piaza
e pinsir d’chi tri magnaza
e fo quel d’una magneda
bela, bona e poc “saleda”.
A dmandesum a un suldé
s’us putess avsèn armughé
e propi gnanc a fel a posta
us dasett, pronta l’arsposta:
“sempre dritto per di li,
dopo l’angolo, si, si!”
When we arrived in the square (ed, Signoria)
the thought of those three eaters
was to make a feast
beautiful, good and slightly salty.
We asked a soldier
if you could eat nearby
and not even to do it on purpose
he gave us the answer promptly:
“Always straight for them,
after the corner, yes, yes! “
L’era un bus d’un ustariott
quatar zoll e un can e tott,
c’us cundeva l’insaleda
ogni tant c’un la licheda.
Quand c’un gnera pù e padrò
e piseva in t’un cantò.
It was a tavern hole
four onions and a dog
that served us salad
every now and then with a lick.
When then the master was missing
pissed in a corner.
A pert i schirz e al dismité
un quert d’ora e piò ui avlé
mo is purté dal fiurinten
ch’al pareva d’al tachen.
Except for jokes and nonsense
it took more than a quarter of an hour
but they brought us Florentines
that looked like turkeys.
L’era e bòtt ca semia in piaza,
pin e stomach, straca la faza,
l’era mei noi piò pinsé
che fra poch as sresum avié
par fé zent e piò chilomit
a risgh d’fé sol di sfurz ad gomit.
E par sbatar la magneda
preparend la camineda
as mitesum in tì scalè
d’un palazz cl’era alé avsè.
It was one o’clock and we were in the square
with a full stomach and tired face,
it was better not to think about it anymore
because we would soon be leaving
to do a hundred and more kilometers
at risk of having nausea and vomiting.
And to digest the food eaten
preparing the walk
we got on the steps
of a building nearby.
Mo chi clomb, acsè a zil squert,
i cagheva a pett avert,
e i cavèll, cul la baroza,
ch’iera alé sota la loza,
par paura d’nos fé pera
i fasett na grand mardera.
But those doves, so in the open air
they pooped in large quantities
and the horses, with the biroccio
who were there under the porch
from the fear of not being outdone
they soiled everything with dung.
Ma e temp, prest e paseva.
Tri quert d’ora ui amancheva.
Talco, oli e dla pumeda
cun dla roba canfureda
che la piaza d’Signureia
la pareva na farmazea
e da e fié ch’iaveva drì
it faseva imbambinì.
But time passed quickly.
Three quarters of an hour left.
Talc, oils and ointments
with other camphored things
than the Piazza Signoria
it looked like a pharmacy
and the stench that was around
there was a head spin.
Ma ecco sota e grand strisò,
cum ch’e foss un grand plutò,
is dasé, al quatar, la mola
augurend d’pasé la “Cola”.
I cureva, chi burdlett,
com ch’iandess drì de stalett.
T’tiva voia d’dì : Va pian !
Mo i cureva cum un can.
But here it is under a big banner
as if it were a great platoon
they kicked off at four
with the hope of overcoming the Glue.
Those kids ran
as if they were behind the stable.
You wanted to say: go slowly!
But they ran like dogs.
Nec i nostar tri spurtiv
is pruveva d’fé i cativ,
mo parché pu fé de sforz
quand che tsé che t’an e al forz.
L’era poch ch’as semia avié
che e cminzé za la farté!
Me, an avleva dì: ahi, ahi!
Nenc s’aveva un grand sfargai.
C’sa putevia ormai piò fé,
um tucheva d’ralenté
e ch’ietar dù i rugeva: “Dai!
Un po’ ad talco e guarirai!”
Even our three sportsmen
they tried to show their muscles
but why make an effort
when you know you don’t have the strength.
Shortly after we left
the omelette started immediately!
I didn’t mean: ouch, ouch!
even if I had a big irritation (groin rubbing). What could I do?
I just had to slow down
and the other two shouted: come on!
Put some talcum powder and you will heal.
Cun la forza ad vulunté
a cminzett a sgambitlé,
mo la mi veluzité
l’an andeva piò d’acsé;
e fò acsé che in che mument
am staché da cl’etra sent.
Ogni tant, long a la stré
im avleva dé da bé
(cum as fal a rifiuté
tot cl’a generusité).
With willpower
I started tripping
but my speed
it was no more
and so it was that moment
I detached myself from all the others.
Every now and then, along the way
they wanted to give me a drink
(how can you refuse
so much generosity)
La mi panza, pora stela,
l’am pareva na mastela.
Adess ch’a sera da par me
am duveva urganizé:
cun e cambi d’al mudann
a guaré un bel po’ e malann
e quand ch’a fott a e “Pass dal Cros”
a cardé d’sintì una vos;
par quest, che in tla disesa
am amulé a corsa stesa.
Quel che me incora a cardeva
l’era d’ciapé chi du ch’scapeva.
My belly, poor thing
it looked like a tub.
Now that I was alone
I had to organize myself:
with the change of underwear
I fixed some of the ailment
and when I was at the Passo delle Croci
I thought I heard a voice
and for this, in the descent
throws me in a fast run.
What I still believed
was to join the other two who fled.
Dop quatr’or cha camineva
dis incora un gn’amancheva.
A tent gropp a pasé dnenz
pr’arivé a Borg San Lurenz
parché se! Porca vigliaca
l’era ora d’cambié l’acqua.
After four hours I was walking
ten were still missing (editor’s note, kilometers)
I overcame many groups
to get to Borgo San Lorenzo
because yes! For misery
it was time to pee.
Arivé ch’a fò in zité
a spereva sol d’truvé
qualcadon cl’andess pr’in la
che me am avleva ander a ca
(tent chilomt d’longa stré
im aveva fatt sudé).
Finalment alé in t’na piaza
a truvé la “machinaza”.
An gn’avleva pinsé piò
am ritiré e a salté sò.
When I got to town
I was just hoping to find
someone going that way
that I wanted to go home
(many kilometers of long road
they made me sweat)
Finally, in a square
I found the macchinaccia (editor’s note, the support one)
I didn’t want to think about it anymore
I retired and jumped up.
Nenc ch’iet du, partiti in tromba
i’eva fatt ssciupé la bomba;
ui era poch da fes dla gloria
l’era znina la vittoria.
Da par me a dgeva: “basta,
st’an l’é l’ultum da pudesta”.
E parché l’é ch’an voi piò
fe acsé tanta cumpassiò!
Even the other two, who left in trumpet
they had blown up the bomb
there was little glory to be done
the victory was small.
Alone I said: enough
this is the last runner.
The reason is that I don’t want anymore
make a lot of compassion.
E che inciò um vegna a cmandé
s’aiò voia d’caminé
parché me, in chev dla fola,
an gnin dèg una cariola!
And that nobody comes to ask me
if I want to walk
because I, at the end of the story,
I tell you a wheelbarrow!
(e nomar meletarsent) (the number one thousand three hundred of the year 1978)


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