Woooshshshsh
Mentri lu ventu d’Aprili sciuscia
Di l’arvuli ni fa un mazzu.
Li munciunia, ci duna strapazzu.

Quannu lu ventu d’aprili
Sciuscia forti,
L’arvuli pari ca si cafuddanu.

‘na sciarra d’arvuli!….
O forsi mi sbagliu
E assistu
ad una cazzuttiata amichevuli.

Rami cu rami lottanu tra d’iddi
Si grattanu, si pizzicanu
Si tiranu capiddi,
E nun s’arrenninu.

Taliu li rami di un arvulu

E sentu lu scrusciu di ligna ‘ncruciati.
Ma si sciarrianu comu li cani?
O comu latri a lu spartiri!

Menu mali! Si firmaru!...
Ma quannu mai!
Appicica la liti
E si sciarrianu arre`.

Ma ora osservu l’arvuli.
Un viu firiti.
Un sulu!
Nuddu vinci e nuddu perdi.

‘Nveci sta sciarra sens’armi,
Stu ballu pazzu,
Mi mustra la flessibilita`di toni,
Comu n’atra forma d’espressioni.

Nun semu nui li rami
Di l’umana furesta?
N’abbrazzamu o ni mazziamu?

Rami, comu li picciriddi
Chi ririnu e s’ammuttanu
E iocanu tra d’iddi
‘nta lu misi d’aprili

‘Nta la sciarra e la sfida
Siddu taliamu bonu
la facci all’oppunenti
noti soccu hai ‘ncomuni
Ed abbrazzallu senti.

Certu chi Aprili sciuscia
E smovi li me’idei
Di n’atru miu pinzari
Ogni rama si torci
Pi accummirari all’autra, mi pari.

E si copiari all’arvuli ni piaci
Siguemuni l’esempiu
Facemu tutti paci!

Wooooshhhhhh…..

As April blows through,
stirring up winds’ laceration,
she riles up the trees,
leaving me this observation:
These trees appear to be fighting,
some arboreal confrontation.
Or am I deceived
by some pugilistic meditation?

Branches embattled,
seen hitting and biting.
A hair pulling drama,
and decadently inviting.

Watch the limbs of a dogwood.
Hear that snap of the birches!
Are they not in a dogfight?
Just the way a thug lurches?

It suddenly stops,
backs up, then resumes,
re-igniting the bout
and the violence it exhumes.

But lo and behold
I’m counting no bruises.
And what doesn’t count
is ‘who wins and who loses?’

Instead, this jujitsu,
this ballistic ballet
points to pliable bending
as an alternate way.

And so we’re all branches
in the same arboretum.
There’s the tree, there’s the forest,
Do we join ‘em or beat ‘em?

Branches are as children
in gleeful upheaval
as ever it has been
since April primeval.

In combat or contest?
Look close and discover
What you take for a fighter
might just be the lover.

Sure, April blows through,
stoking gusts of cogitation.
She riles up in me
this new adjudication:
Each bending of bow
makes mutual accommodation.
So… model the trees,
and their pax recommendation.