Passaggio notturno

 

Di Vincenzo Cardarelli

 

 

Giace lassù la mia infanzia.

Lassù in quella collina

ch’io riveggo di notte,

passando in ferrovia,

segnata di vive luci.

Odor di stoppie bruciate

m’investe alla stazione.

Antico e sparso odore

simile a molte voci che mi chiamino.

Ma il treno fugge. Io vo non so dove.

M’è compagno un amico

che non si desta neppure.

Nessuno pensa o immagina

che cosa sia per me

questa materna terra ch’io sorvolo

come un ignoto, come un traditore.

Nocturnal passing

 

By Vincenzo Cardarelli

 

 

It is there that my childhood lies.

High upon that hill

that I see again at night,

on a train passing by,

dotted with bright lights.

The smell of burnt stubble

overwhelms me at the station.

An ancient all-encompassing smell

Like a profusion of voices calling to me.

But the train is racing, going I know not where.

I am in the company of a friend

who sleeping does not even stir.

No-one knows or imagines

what it is to me

that homeland which I skirt

like a stranger, like a traitor.

 

 

Translation by ©Matilda Colarossi

 

 

 

 

 

Vincenzo Cardarelli, penname for Nazareno Caldarelli, was a poet, author, journalist and editor.

An illegitimate child, he grew up in his father’s buffet car; abandoned by his mother at an early age, his studies were discontinuous. Overwhelming loneliness marked his life, as did his great friendship with Ardengo Soffici, Giuseppe De Robertis, Giovanni Papini and Ungaretti, and his numerous contributions in newspapers such as Il Marzocco, La Voce, Il Resto del Carlino and Il tempo, and the magazines Lirica and La Ronda.

This poem is from the collection: “Prologhi”, 1916

prologhi-730x1024

 

 

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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