Women

To women from the old days, life was never too nice,

since Eve sinned long ago, they had to pay the price;

they had to churn out children, that’s all they were born for, sfornare

they had to be men’s servants, they had to do every chore. faccenda

At dawn, they went to mass, a veil on their tight bun,

then started the endless series of duties to be done:

the children to look after, of housework there’s a bunch,

they worked out in the farmland, they had to make the lunch,

and when the day was over, making love with no complaints,

meanwhile, they had kind words to address the Lord and all the saints;

yet women from the old days, when they got struck by Cupid,

they would say no at first, then they, too, would do something stupid.

The women from the old days grew up in such a haste,

among uncaring people, without ever being embraced.

On working days or Sundays, in black clothes, looking grim,

a shawl or flowery neckerchief would be their wildest whim.

Snuff was the worst of habits they could ever pick up,

together with the gossiping on people acting up.

Much wiser and more selfless than we nowadays deserve.

The old days women’s memory’s so arduous to preserve,

yet when I think about them, I can’t but shed a tear,

because their love was boundless even when it was austere.

The women from the old days are still around, I guess,

with one more cross to bear, a cross whose name is ‟stress”.

So much stress!