Linfe

 

Mario Luzi

Quiete, maturità impende dal cielo.
Non più io, sono gli alberi felici
che parlano e le rose e le acque vive
nei salti, e le città
sublimi dove salgono i sentieri.
E quest’ora eternamente propizia
che rimane da vivere, nel sole
alta e sempre futura.

Ma dovunque mi tragga il chiaro fuoco
nel meriggio, oh tu guardalo tremare
fra i carri di vendemmia che s’inoltrano
lenti per le contrade
fra siepi ed ombre fluide, ovunque appare
il tempo giustamente compiuto.
La sua voce s’è sciolta già in preghiera
là dove il vento cade.

Lymphae

 

Mario Luzi

Silent, maturity impends from the sky.
No longer I, but the blissful trees
do speak and the roses and the live waters
in springs, and the cities
sublime where spiralling trails soar.
And this infinitely propitious hour
that is yet to be lived, in the sun
high and forever future.

But wherever the bright flame leads me
in the morn, oh you watch it shimmer
among the carts at harvest as they move
slowly along the lanes
among hedges and fluid shadows, wherever
time justly spent transpires.
Its voice is by now dissolved in prayer
there where the wind falls.

Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2018

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

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