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Parabola
Franco Fortini
Se tu vorrai sapere
chi nei miei giorni sono stato, questo
di me ti potrò dire.
A una sorte mi posso assomigliar
che ho veduta nei campi:
l’uva che ai ricchi giorni di vendemmia
fu trovata immatura
ed i vendemmiatori non la colsero
e che poi nella vigna
smagrita dalle pene dell’inverno
non giunta alla dolcezza
non compiuta la macerano i venti
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Parable
Franco Fortini
If ever you wish to know
who I was in my day, this
about me I could tell you.
I can compare myself to something
I once saw in the fields:
grapes that in the lush days of harvest
were found unripe
and by the harvesters left unpicked
and which on the vine
wasted by the agonies of winter
never turning sweet
never done were macerated by the winds.
Translation ©Matilda Colarossi |
Franco Fortini, from the collection (Poesia e errore, 1959).
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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parallel texts: words reflected 
Poesia molto bella, e molto triste….
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I feel the same, Paolo. I tend to be attracted to sad poetry: I find it the perfect element in which to express sorrow. This poem is particularly sad and particularly beautiful. And although, in answer to advice on the poem, Montale concluded his criticism with the words “I hope not!”, I think it is, in the end, the way of the world, and the end of us all.
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Reblogged this on Paolo Ottaviani's Weblog.
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