Ecuméne: Butterflies


Butterflies

The Grandmother plaited her granddaughter’s hair and then she said, “Get your lunch.
Put it in your bag. Get your apple. You come straight back after school, straight home here.
Listen to the teacher,” she said. “Do what she say.”
Her grandfather was out on the step. He walked down the path with her and out onto the footpath. He said to a neighbor, “Our granddaughter goes to school. She lives with us now.”
“She’s fine,” the neighbor said. “She’s terrific with her two plaits in her hair.”
“And clever,” the grandfather said. “Writes every day in her book.”
“She’s fine,” the neighbor said.
The grandfather waited with his granddaughter by the crossing and then he said, “Go to school. Listen to the teacher. Do what she say.”
When the granddaughter came home from school her grandfather was hoeing around the cabbages. Her grandmother was picking beans. They stopped their work.
“You bring your book home?” the grandmother asked.
“Yes.”
“You write your story?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your story?”
“About the butterflies.”
“Get your book then. Read your story.”
The granddaughter took her book from her schoolbag and opened it.
“I killed all the butterflies,” she read. “This is me and this is all the butterflies.”
“And your teacher like your story, did she?”
“I don’t know.”
“What your teacher say?”
“She said butterflies are beautiful creatures. They hatch out and fly in the sun. The butterflies visit all the pretty flowers, she said. They lay their eggs and then they die. You don’t kill butterflies, that’s what she said.”
The grandmother and the grandfather were quiet for a long time, and their granddaughter,
holding the book, stood quite still in the warm garden.
“Because you see,” the grandfather said, “your teacher, she buy all her cabbages from the supermarket and that’s why.”
*** *** *** 

Paveis

La none e fasè la strece tai cjavei de gnece e i disè: “Cjol sù il gustâ. Metilu inte cartele. Cjol sù il to miluç. E torne indaûr subite dopo finide scuele, drete a cjase. E sta atente a ce che dîs la mestre.” i dîs “Fâs ce che ti dîs.”
So nono al jere fûr sù la puarte. Al smontà dal antîl insieme cun jê e al si invià par il viâl di cjase. Al disè al vicin. “Nestre gnece e va a scuele. E vîf cun nô cumò”.
“E je propit ninine” al disè il vicin “E je bielissime cun chês dôs strecis tai cjavei.”
“E inteligjente” al disè il nono. “E scrîf ogni dì sul so cuader.”
“Brave che frute” al disè il vicin.
Il nono al spietà cun sô gnece li de crosere e dopo al disè. “Va drete a scuele. Sint ce che e dîs la mestre. Fâs ce che ti dîs.”
Cuant che la gnece e tornâ cjase di scuele so nono al steve sapant li des verzis. So none e cjapave sù fasui. A fermarin ducj i doi il lôr lavôr.
“Âstu puartât cjase il cuader” e domandà la none.
“Sì”
“Âstu scrit la tô conte?”
“Sì”
“Di ce cjacarie?”
“E cjacare di paveis.”
“Dai, cjôl il cuader. Leinus la storie.”
La gnece e cjolè il so cuader de cartele e lu vierzè.
“O ai copadis dutis lis paveis.” e leiè “Ve chi cheste o soi jo, e chestis a son lis paveis.”
“E a la mestre i è plasude la tô storie, nomo?”
“No sai.”
“Parcè? Ce ae dite?”
“E à dite che lis farfalis a son creaturis bielissimis. Lôr a si vierzin e a svolin in tal soreli. Lis paveis a van a cjatâ dutis lis rosis plui bielis. E à dit che lôr a fasin i lôr uvisuts e dopo a morin. No bisugne copâ lis paveis. Cussì e à dite la mestre.”
La none e il nono a restarin cuiets par une vore, e la gnece, tignint in man il cuader, e restà ferme compagn di lôr, in tal mieç dal cjalt dal ort.
“Parcè che, viodistu” al disè il nono, “la tô mestre di sigure e compre dutis lis sôs verzis intal supermarket, eco parcè!”
Conte di une racuelte dal 1987
de scritore neozelandese Patricia Grace
voltade par furlan
di Raffaele Serafini

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