Crea sito


2136 The sting in the tail a deth (La morte co la coda)
Translated by Peter Nicholas Dale
There’s no way oudda the fix: either yer a lib, a revalushun’ry
Or ya b’lieve in the law uv our Lord Jesus Christ.
An if ya b’lieve, then, battler or toff as the case may be,
The prospect a deth grabs yer hart in a grip uv ice.
Ya run off ta take in farces, do’s an pardies,
Ya pass ya time in tavens, do a line with a bride,
Make luv, finangle deals, pocket dough, mix with harties
An hoods, wowsers an pimps . . an then ya die!
An aftawards? The big trubs hit’cha aftawards, my frien’.
Aftawards there’s anuther life, anuther wirld ta cum,
That lasts f’rever an never ever cums tw’an end!

That ‘never’ getsya thinken, grinds ya in’a the dust with fear!
Still, nuntheless, fa good or bad, afloat or drownen,
That bitch, eternudy must run on an on fa donkey’s years.
The sonnet is translated into "Strine", the dialect spoken in Australia down to the 1960s.