CHIACCHIERATA SERALE

 da Inediti  di Dino Campana

Forse se qui non avesse abitato il mio amore io non avrei scoperto… Pure abitando il mio amore qui…

È inutile descrivere ciò…

Cioè un mazzo di fiori secchi all’angolo con una grande insegna sulle vetrate ed io guardare le vetrate in punta di piedi se qui se qui fosse il mio amore, e non c’era.

La via era scura e stretta all’angolo della grande piazza.

Riprese. Perché descrivere tutto ciò? Pure per quanto secco fosse quel mazzo di fiori sentìi una gran pace venire sopra di me.

Così passavamo davanti alle grandi lettere nere dell’insegna colorata e quando ci volgemmo dalla vetrata ci parve una ragazza leggera e bianca passare davanti al cristallo e forse agli angoli della bocca chiusa e amorosa davanti all’insegna dell’albergo dell’Agnello per la via scura e stretta in curva all’angolo della grande piazza. «Era il granito delle tombe la rosa centifoglie» mentre a noi le stelle parevano spuntare ad una ad una dietro i giocattoli giganteschi delle Alpi.

EVENING CHAT

from Inediti (Unpublished works) by Dino Campana

Maybe if my love hadn’t lived here I wouldn’t have discovered…Although my love lives here…

It’s useless to describe it…

I mean a bunch of dry flowers in the corner with a big sign on the windows and me looking through those windows on tiptoe to see if here if here was my love, and she wasn’t.

The alley was dark and narrow at the corner of the great square.

He continued. Why describe all this? For however dry that bunch of flowers was I felt a sense of infinite peace come over me.

So we would pass in front of the enormous black letters on the colourful sign and when we turned from the glass we saw what looked like a thin pale girl flitting past the crystal and maybe at the corners of her mouth closed and loving in front of the sign of the Agnello Hotel in that alley dark and narrow bending at the corner of the great square. ”It was the granite of the tombs the rose of a hundred leaves” while to us the stars seemed to appear one by one from behind the enormous toy Alps.

Translation by ©Matilda Colarossi

Dino Campana, (1885-1932), was an Italian poet from Marradi in Upper Mugello, a territory that would be a central part of his wanderings and writings. He is famous for his only published book of poems Orphic Songs, his borderline personality, his great genius, his ill-fated love story with Sibilla Aleramo.

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