The smoke of one's own village is more beautiful than the fire of another — home, however humble, is preferable to any foreign splendour. The familiar and local is always more beloved than the spectacular and strange.
This deeply moving Piedmontese proverb resonates with particular power in a region that has seen massive emigration. Hundreds of thousands of Piedmontese left their villages — in the Langhe, the Monferrato, the Cuneese, the Valsesia — for Argentina, Brazil, France, and Germany in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Those emigrants carried this proverb with them as a condensed expression of what they had left behind: not the fire (the warmth, the spectacle, the attraction) of their destination, but the smoke — the humble, everyday, utterly familiar — of home. The smoke rising from the chimney of your own house was more beautiful than any foreign blaze. The proverb is the Piedmontese emigrant's lament and love letter in twelve words.
One of the most beautiful and emotionally resonant Piedmontese proverbs. Deeply tied to the experience of emigration that defined Piedmont in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
A Piedmontese emigrant in Buenos Aires writing home in 1920
Qui ci sono palazzi grandi come cattedrali. Ma al fum dl'paes l'è pü bel ch'al fog dl'alter. Mi manca il fumo della cucina di mia madre.
Here there are palaces as large as cathedrals. But the smoke of one's own village is more beautiful than the fire of another. I miss the smoke of my mother's kitchen.
A Langhe winemaker who refused an offer to move to France
Mi hanno offerto un lavoro in Borgogna, ottimo stipendio. Al fum dl'paes l'è pü bel ch'al fog dl'alter — queste colline sono la mia vita.
They offered me a job in Burgundy, excellent salary. The smoke of one's own village is more beautiful than the fire of another — these hills are my life.
A Torinese returning after ten years abroad
Ho girato il mondo e ho visto cose bellissime. Quando ho visto la Mole dal finestrino del treno, ho capito: al fum dl'paes l'è pü bel ch'al fog dl'alter.
I have travelled the world and seen beautiful things. When I saw the Mole from the train window, I understood: the smoke of one's own village is more beautiful than the fire of another.
A Piedmontese grandmother to a grandchild leaving for university
Vai, impara, vedi il mondo. Ma ricorda: al fum dl'paes l'è pü bel ch'al fog dl'alter. Tornerai.
Go, learn, see the world. But remember: the smoke of one's own village is more beautiful than the fire of another. You will return.