Today we read Tutti in maschera, by Emilio Praga.
It might come as a surprise that the author of the sonnet about God’s implied approval and forgiveness of free love that we have previously published would also write religious poetry.
And yet here we are. Praga vehemently reprimands those who complain that God doesn’t show himself directly: do they expect to be able to see him naked, as if he were a prostitute who can be bought for a few coins?
Besides, men also hide behind a mask, never showing their true face. Instead of wanting God to be more forthcoming than us, we should be grateful that he allows us our masks: how horrible would it be to see what’s behind…
The poem is written in settenari, alternatingly with eight (sdruccioli) and seven (piani) syllables. The piani ones rhyme two by two.
The original:
Uom, tu che nasci in maschera,
e mascherato muori,
osi insultar, se incognito
è anch’esso il Dio, che adori?
Vorresti tu conoscerlo
ed affisarlo ignudo,
come una compra femmina,
o il conio di uno scudo?
Ma tu, da culla a feretro
lasci un sol dì il mantello?
Ardisci mostrar l’indole
del cuore e del cervello?
Dio che a ragione, o tanghero,
di te più furbo è assai,
t’acqueta, la sua maschera
non lascerà giammai.
E tu in ginocchio pregalo
che ci lasci la nostra,
perché sarebbe orribile
l’anima messa in mostra!
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