What to do after studying English at Tti? An intern’s perspective – Dalila’s Last Week and Poem of the week (Italian & English)

Last Blog and Poem of the Week – 

Ossi di Seppia – Mereggiare di Eugenio Montale (with English translation)

This is my last week at Tti and my last Blog.

I don’t know how to explain my feeling in this very moment. I arrived in London the 29th of October and I started working as coffee bar and studying at Tti the 1st of November, today is the 23rd of March and is my last day as a Intern at Tti after 5 months in this school with its lovely team. They all have been part of new life in London.

Since I arrived in London I’ve spent here most of my time here and I’m gonna feel like I’m missing something from next week. I met good friends and some of them have left and others are still here.

They taught many things of their job and corrected all  my English mistakes. My English has improved since the first day here in class, for that I would like to say thank you for giving me this big opportunity.

 

Ossi di Seppia – Mereggiare di Eugenio Montale

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Meriggiare pallido e assorto

Meriggiare pallido e assorto 

presso un rovente muro d’orto, 

ascoltare tra i pruni e gli sterpi 

schiocchi di merli, frusci di serpi.

Nelle crepe dei suolo o su la veccia 

spiar le file di rosse formiche 

ch’ora si rompono ed ora s’intrecciano 

a sommo di minuscole biche.

Osservare tra frondi il palpitare

lontano di scaglie di mare 

mentre si levano tremuli scricchi 

di cicale dai calvi picchi.

E andando nel sole che abbaglia 

sentire con triste meraviglia 

com’è tutta la vita e il suo travaglio 

in questo seguitare una muraglia 

che ha in cima cocci aguzzi di bottiglia.

Eugenio Montale, da Ossi di Seppia (1925)

High noon, pale and absorbed

High noon, pale and absorbed

near a a garden’s crumbled wall

among the thorns and brambles

listen to the blackbird clucks and the snakes’ swish.

In the cracks and on the vetches of the earth,

peep rows of red ants

that now break and now entwine

upon the peaks of tiny heaps.

Here amidst the leaves

see the far-off fluttering

of sea-flakes, the trembling hiss

of cicadas looming high above.

And heading toward the blinding sun,

feel with sad wonder

how all of life and all its labors

follow a wall whose top

bottles’ sharp shards adorn.”

 

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Written by Dalila, 23/03/2016

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