At the feast of Flowering AlmondsSun beating on almonds early in the morning
and the birds are chattering continuously.
The peasant, sleeping in his cart
is rocking back and forth. can Fate be changed
by wearing almond blossoms in your ear?
Stretched out, the peasant rocks away
(the scorching sun is beating down on him)
he hears the booming battle noises of Orlando
killing some Saracens, and hears the sighing
and crying of Rinaldo dolled up in red and white.
With his she-mule all decked out for the feast,
his cart all shiny and adorned with feathers,
step by step moving down a dusty road.
The droopy blanket hangs between her legs,
the almonds and the olives all around
show her the way. She runs into a boulder,
lifts her head, she runs, she jumps and dances.
“break your neck!” the whip comes down on her.
Hurry now, quick, I hear the jew’s harp starting.
(Translated by Gaetano Cipolla)