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1443 The way things are (Le cose der Monno)
Translated by Peter Nicholas Dale


Now fiddlydids, grumblen about thíAlmighdy ainít nice,
Itís wot cínsoles fools ut are sucked in by urgers.
Strokes a forchune go hand in hand with scourges.
Thereís rich folk, ní thereís peeple ut scratch their lice.

The Popeíull help battlers ut find the goen tuff:
But then sumwun elseíull gouge out their eyes as well.
Thatís the way a the wirld: these things are bagatelles,
Pifflen trifles, not wirth a brass razoo, trivial stuff.

Wotís the point a counten wun by wun the cumfy state
Uv uthers utíve had a lucky break? Thatís gossip.
Nowunís ever, ever sadusfied with his fate.

Be cool, take ya time: Short uva feed? Yuíll be eaten soon,
An when nite comes on after the sunís set
Well letís jusí be sadusfied with the lide a the moon.

16/3/2001
The sonnet is translated into "Strine", the dialect spoken in Australia down to the 1960s.

 


1443 The way things are (Orthographically normalized version)
Translated by Peter Nicholas Dale


Now fiddlydids, grumbling about the Almighty ainít nice,
Itís what consoles fools that are sucked in by urgers.
Strokes of fortune go hand in hand with scourges.
Thereís rich folk, and thereís people that scratch their lice.

The Popeíll help battlers that find the going tough:
But then someone elseíll gouge out their eyes as well.
Thatís the way of the world: these things are bagatelles,
Piffling trifles, not worth a brass razoo, trivial stuff.

Whatís the point of counting one by one the comfy state
Of others thatíve had a lucky break? Thatís gossip.
No oneís ever, ever satisfied with his fate.

Be cool, take your time: Short of a feed? Youíll be eaten soon,
And when night comes on after the sunís set
Well letís just be satisfied with the light a the moon.

16/3/2001