La primavera
. . . Noi siamo sardi Siamo le ginestre d’oro giallo che spiovono sui sentieri rocciosi come grandi lampade accese. Siamo la solitudine selvaggia, il silenzio immenso e profondo, lo splendore del cielo, il bianco fiore del cisto. Siamo il regno ininterrotto del lentisco, delle onde che ruscellano i graniti antichi, della rosa canina, del vento, dell’immensità del mare. Siamo una terra di lunghi silenzi, di orizzonti ampi e puri, di piante fosche, di montagne bruciate dal sole e dalla vendetta. Noi siamo sardi. |
Spring
. . . We are Sardinians We are the golden-yellow broom that showers onto rocky trails like huge lamps ablaze. We are the wild solitude, the immense and profound silence, We are the uninterrupted reign of the mastic tree, of the waves that stream over ancient granite, of the dog-rose, of the wind, of the immensity of the sea. We are a land of long silences, of horizons vast and pure, of plants glum, of mountains burnt by the sun and vengeance. We are Sardinians. . |
The two poems – by the poet and Nobel Prize winner, Grazie Deledda – are the last in this series of women writers in translation for #Internationalwomensday 2019.
I found them perfect, for one introduces new life, rebirth, in the awakening of spring, which is what I wish for all women today in our struggle for equality and respect; and the other celebrates a people, the Sardinians, while remembering the uncertain roots of all people. We are Sardinians, says the author, but we come from peoples from lands that coast the sea, and who occupied often very distant lands. I read in the poems an expression of hope, and oneness.
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Reblogged this on Paolo Ottaviani's Weblog.
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