A bit of tragicomedy (un pôc di tragjicomedie) in Friulian (par furlan), first part (prime part):
Une cjamare di albergo. Il miôr barcon sul viâl di dute la citât. Il corteo al passe aes cuatri. O jentrìn cidins. O sbarìn. E o saltìn fûr cidins. Nissun nus à viodûts. Nissun nus à sintûts. Anonimato, regule numar un. -Psst... psst... psst... psst... Capo? -Ehh! -Nus stan puartant vie la machine! -Ce? -Nus stan puartant vie la machine cu l’autosocors. -Ma tu le âs metude sul viâl! -Ma ce saio jo? -Ma al è normâl che a liberin la strade pe manifestazion, no? Moviti, se no ti tocje lâ in cuesture! -E dulà le varessio di meti? -Daûr dal albergo! Moviti!
A hotel room. The city’s best window over the avenue. The procession’s at four. We go in quietly. We shoot. And we go out quietly. Nobody’s seen us. Nobody’s heard us. Anonimity, rule number one. -Psst... psst... psst... psst... Boss? -Ehh! -They’re towing our car! -What? -They’re towing our car with the tow truck. -Don’t tell me you parked it in the avenue! -Well how was I supposed to know? -Well it’s normal they’d clear the street for the demonstration, isn’t it? Move it, otherwise you’ll have to go down to the police station! -And where should I park it? -Behind the hotel! Move it!