“Cui veni appressu, cunta li pedati”
(Who comes after counts the footprints)
This Sicilian proverb is a gem of folk wisdom, steeped in bitterness, realism, and a certain touch of sarcasm.
Literally, it means that whoever comes after must reckon with the footprints left behind—but the metaphor runs far deeper.
It refers to those who, acting in the present, show no concern for the future consequences of their actions, leaving the thankless task of repairing the damage to those who follow.
It is a sharp critique of those who live only for their own immediate gain, indifferent to the legacy they leave behind—or to the ruin they may be creating.
It echoes a rural ethic of intergenerational responsibility, but expressed with biting cynicism: let the next ones deal with it.
A sort of “I wash my hands of it” before the term was coined.
Within the structure of the phrase, “counts the footprints” becomes a stark metaphor: those who come after will have to count the blows, gather the fragments, and take stock of the damage.
The “pedate” are not just footprints, but also kicks received, signs of mismanagement, exploitation, and neglect.
The proverb lends itself to a very modern reading—whether in environmental terms (the climate crisis left to future generations), economic terms (public debt, waste, postponed reforms), or even in the running of families and businesses.
In short, those who live only for themselves leave a steep bill for those who come after.
And the next generation will not find a path to follow, but wounds to heal.
A more cultured version of the saying, though expressing the same spirit, might be:
“Après moi, le déluge” – attributed to Louis XV.
Or more prosaically:
“There will be no ‘after’—the present is all that matters to me.”
—an unspoken philosophy many seem to live by.