da Trucioli #38
Ma, ormai, se qualcuno invidio, è l’albero.
Freschezza e innocenza dell’albero! Cresce a suo modo. Schietto, sereno. Il sole, l’acqua lo toccano in ogni foglia. Perennemente ventilato.
Piú che gli uomini, ho in cuore fisionomie d’alberi.
Essere un albero, un comune albero…
From Trucioli #38
But, now, if there is anyone I envy, it’s the tree.
The freshness and innocence of the tree! It grows in its own way. Sincere, serene. The sun, the water touch its every leaf. Perennially ventilated.
More than that of men, in my heart I carry the physiognomy of trees.
To be a tree, an ordinary tree…
Translation @Matilda Colarossi 2018
The piece is an excerpt from poem #38 found in the collection, Trucioli, by Camillo Sbarbaro (Mondadori Editore, 1948, pp. 71-72)
There were times when man, the artist mostly, was so troubled by the misery of the times he lived in that he would seek refuge in nature. These are difficult times, times in which hatred abounds, in which wretchedness appears round corners, inadvertently, or almost. It is, I think, time for nature. Let’s plant trees, not hatred. – M.C.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.