Ligurian:
O vegio lattonê

O vegio lattonê, ch’o l’é de quelli che san fâ de tutto, che te cangian i pessi beuggiæ e de belle vòtte te fan pagâ solo che a man d’euvia, apreuvo che i pessi ghe l’an za in magazzin. O vegio lattonê, co-a seu spòrta piña de cösci de metallo de unna forma strania, che no se sa guæi ben cöse servan, o dòrme inte un soieu, de d’ato a-e terrasse, un bordigòtto che nisciun no se ghe peu regiâ, da tanto ch’o l’é piccin. O lattonê o l’é lì da quande an tiou sciù o palaçio, o fa parte do casamento, ch’o dev’ëse nasciuo e cresciuo con lê. «M’à che ve ghe provæ, à attrovâne un pægio – o dixe l’Amministratô, ch’o va in estaxi, quand’o ô vedde travaggiâ – che ve provæ à ciammâ un de sti zoeni de oua, à fâ çerti loei: ve s’asbrian. No gh’an coæ de fâ ninte, te ô lì comm’a l’é, se mescian solo che se gh’é da guägnâ de gren palanche». L’an visto louâ mai tanto into streito che no se sa comm’o fasse, manco s’o foïse unna biscia. Ma no sò se o palaçio o l’aggradisce guæi sti seu interventi coscì à fondo inti seu ventraggi, e l’é pe quello che l’é intravegnuo quello che l’é intravvegnuo l’atro giorno; l’ò visto ch’o travaggiava in fondo à unna fòssa neigra pe cangiâ o possetto de ægue gianche do condominio e, tutt’assemme, e miage an comensou à strenziseghe adòsso, fin à sciaccâlo: lê o criava comme unn’agogia e o sangue o coava da-e fissue da miagia. Sensa savei cöse me fesse, son corrio à cà e ò telefonou à no sò chi, con de poule sensa senso; ma sentiva i pasci do lattonê ch’o montava sciù da-i fondi da cantiña. Co-o senso do dovei e do sagrifiçio ch’o ô distingue, o lasciava in scê scae di sarpaggi sanguinoxi co-i pê reduti à unna potamòlla, fin ch’o no m’à sunnou da-a pòrta: «Sciô Lusciandro – o m’à dito, tanto che un euggio o ghe pendeiva feua da-a cascia – bisà che contròlle da-o seu lavello se l’ægua a score ben».

English translation:
The old tinker

The old tinker, who is one of those who know how to do everything, who change the damaged parts for you and very often only charge you for the labour, since they already have the parts in stock. The old plumber, with his bag full of strangely shaped metal contraptions, of which it isn’t quite clear what they’re for, sleeps in an attic, above the terraces, a storeroom where no one can turn around, so small is it. The plumber has been there since the building was put up, he is part of the block of flats, which must have been born and grown together with him. “Just try, to find one like him – says the Administrator, who goes into raptures whenever he sees him at work – just try calling one of these young men nowadays, to do certain jobs: they’ll bite your head off. They don’t feel like doing anything, that’s how it is, they only move if there’s big money to be made.” They’ve seen him work in such tight spaces that no one knows how he manages it, not even if he were a grass snake. But I don’t know whether the building so much appreciates these interventions of his, going so deep into its bowels, and that’s why what happened the other day happened; I saw him working at the bottom of a black pit to change the rainwater drain of the condominium and, all at once, the walls began to close in around him, until they crushed him; he was shrieking like an eagle and blood was trickling from the cracks in the wall. Without knowing what I was doing, I ran home and telephoned I don’t know whom, with senseless words; but I could hear the footsteps of the plumber climbing up from the depths of the cellar. With the sense of duty and sacrifice that distinguishes him, he was leaving bloody footprints on the stairs with his feet reduced to a pulp, until he rang my doorbell: “Signor Alessandro – he said to me, while one of his eyes dangled out of its socket – I need to check at your sink whether the water’s running properly.”