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