PALMA

Mario Luzi

Ombre mute appoggiate alle campagne
– a ognuno il suo Viaggio – ove all’unisono
nella voce dei rivi tra le canne
intimamamente avvengono I crepiscoli.

Presto ad Eco ferita cadrà il dardo
pungente nella polvere. Già vinta,
sicura di non essere che un tardo
rimpianto della vita, allora, estinta

la speranza, di me domanderai
e delle rose. Allora ma non prima
che, violati i segreti, il giorno ormai
sia una luce deserta che ti opprima.

Non avanti che i dolci, che i tenaci
vincoli della vita si recidano!
Allor che il vento tiepido di baci
corra dinanzi a te sempre più rapido.

PALMA

Mario Luzi

Silent shadows leaning across the glades
– to each his own Journey – where in unison
in the voice of the banks among the canes
intimately befall the dusks.

Soon the wounded Echo will let the serrated
dart drop in the dust. Already won,
certain you are nothing but life’s belated
pang of conscience, then, when gone

is all hope, of me you will ask
and of the roses. Then but no sooner,
secrets infringed, than the day is but
deserted light that quashes you.

Not until the gentle, the tenacious
chains of life are severed completely!
And the wind tepid with kisses
dashes before you ever more quickly.

.

Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2018

From the collection Brindisi, by Mario Luzi, Sansoni, Fireze

 

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

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