di Eugenio Montale

Spesso il male di vivere ho incontrato:

era il rivo strozzato che gorgolia,

era l’incartocciarsi della foglia

riarsa, era il cavallo stramazzato.

Bene non seppi, fuori del prodigio

che schiude la divina Indifferenza:

era la statua nella sonnolenza

del meriggio, e la nuvola, e il falco alto levato.

by Eugenio Montale

Often the burden of life I have met

it was the strangled rivulet that gurgles,

it was the crumpling of leaves

burnt, it was the horse spent.

No other way was there, if not the wonder

that bears divine Indifference:

it was the statue in the somnolent

afternoon, and the cloud, and the hawk’s ascent.

Translation by ©MatildaColarossi