6: Su Poettu
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| Elio, Sebastian e is amigus suus arribant a sa prima firmada de su Poetu, propriu a faci a sa Sedda de su Tiaulu, connota in totu su mundu. | Elio, Sebastian and his friends arrive at the first bus stop at Poetto beach, just in front of the Devil’s Saddle, known all over the world. | |
| E | Arribaus seus, o piciocus! Su Poetu, sa mega-plaja de sa tzitadi. Una de is prus bellas de su mundu! | We here, guys! Il Poetto, the city’s mega-beach. One of the most beautiful beaches in the world. |
| Is piciocus s’acostant a ora de (or’e) mari, passendi in mesu a sa genti corcada in s’arena. Charlotte est spantada. | The boys and girls approach the sea, passing between people lying on the sand. Charlotte is amazed. | |
| Ch | Gé est pagu longa! No acabat prus! | It’s so long! There’s no end! |
| E | Funt casi 8 chilometrus. E totu custu a cincu minutus de machina de is bixinaus becius. Ita si ndi parit? | It’s almost 8 kilometers! And all this within a 5- minute drive of the old town neighborhoods. How do you feel about this? |
| Charlotte s’acostat a s’acua. | Charlotte approaches the water. | |
| Ch | De no crei. Benei a biri, piciocus! S’acua est trasparenti! Si biit puru piscixeddu… | Unbelievable! Come and see, guys. The water is transparent! You can see small fishes! |
| E | Eja, po mori de sa Sedda de su Tiaulu. S’acua de su portu no arrennescit a arribai innoi. | Eja, thanks to the Devil’s Saddle. The waters of the port cannot get here. |
| Ch | Est unu paradisu. | It is a paradise. |
| F | Oh! A paragoni, Paris Plage est una bassa. | Of course, in comparison, Paris Plage is a cesspit. |
| Ch | No torru prus a Amsterdam. Innoi totu asulu, ingunis totu murru. | I’m not going back to Amsterdam anymore. Here everything (is) blue, there all (is) gray. |
| S | Costumas a benni sempri innoi, Elio? | Do you always come here, Elio? |
| E | Ci podis contai! In s’istadi ci bengu casi donnia dí. Arribu a is noi, studiu, mi fatzu duus o tres bánnius, a prangiu mi papu unu paninu e torru a domu candu girat su bentu. | You can bet on it! In the summer I come almost every day. I arrive at 9, I study, I jump in two or three times, I eat a sandwich at lunch and go home when the wind turns. |
| Ch | E a ita ora (it’ora) girat? | What time does it turn? |
| E | Faci de (fac’e) sa una. | Around one o’clock. |
| Ch | Ah, seis genti dengosa, eh… | Ah, you are a spoiled people, eh… |
| E | Ci funt duas oras de sa dí chi no si podint perdi a su Poetu, sempri in s’istadi. A mengianeddu, candu s’acua parit unu sprigu mannu de ollu de olia (oll’e olia), e in is diis bascosas meda, faci a is ses de merí. | There are two moments in the day that cannot be missed at the Poetto, always in summer. Early in the morning, when the sea looks like a huge mirror of olive oil, and on very hot days, around 6 pm. |
| Ch | E ita sutzedit? | And what happens? |
| E | Gé dd’as’a benni a biri… | You’ll see… (litt.: you’ll come to see it one day…) |
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