Vita fedele alla vita

Mario Luzi

La città di domenica
sul tardi
quando c’è pace
ma una radio geme
tra le sue moli cieche
dalle sue viscere intertie

e a chi va nel crepaccio di una via
tagliata netta tra le banche arriva
dolce fino allo spasimo l’umano
appiattato nelle sue chiaviche e nei suoi ammezzati,

tregua, sì, eppure
uno, la fronte sull’asfalto, muore
tra poca gente stranita
che indugia e si fa attorno all’infortunio,

e noi si è qui o per destino o casualmente insieme
tu ed io, mia compagna di poche ore,
in questa sfera impazzita
sotto la spada a doppio filo
del giudizio o della remissione,

vita fedele alla vita
tutto questo che le è cresciuto in seno
dove va, mi chiedo,
discende o sale a sbalzi verso il suo principio…

sebbene non importi, sebbene sia la nostra vita e basta.

Life true to life

Mario Luzi

The city on Sunday
at night
when there is peace
but a radio is moaning
among its blind edifices
from its ramrod viscera

and he who walks in the crevasse of an alley
cut cleanly between investment banks feels
gentle and heart-wrenching the human
concealed within its sewers and its entresols,

respite, yes, and yet
one man, face down on the asphalt, perishes
among the few dazed passersby
who linger and gather round the accident,

and we are here either by fate or together by chance
you and I, my companion of a few hours,
in this frenzied sphere
under the double edged sword
of judgement or remission,

life true to life
all this which has grown in its bosom
goes where, I wonder,
does it descend or soar in jolts towards its beginning…

although it doesn’t matter, although it’s our life and that’s all.

Translation @Matilda Colarossi

The poem is from the collection “Su fondamenti invisibili ”
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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