| Aprendo la finestra stamattina
Paolo Ottaviani Aprendo la finestra stamattina ho visto che pioveva, il cassettone vomitava rifiuti e una bambina rovistava con sciolta precisione tra i sacchi luccicanti, poi s’è aperto uno squarcio di sole — reazione fulminea — il piazzale ora è deserto. Un merlo urbano saltella felice e un passante borbotta il suo sconcerto — tutto per terra, che schifezza!— dice. |
As I opened the window this morning
Paolo Ottaviani As I opened the window this morning I noticed it was raining, the trash bin vomited garbage and there standing was a young girl who with deft diligence rummaged through shiny sacks, the clouds parted filtering sunlight—instantaneous reaction— the square was now deserted. An urban black bird gamboled joyously and annoyed a passerby protested —litter scattered everywhere, how filthy! |
| Quando Imoletta* si svegliò su un ramo
Quando Imoletta* si svegliò su un ramo trascinata dai venti con la tenda che dopo il terremoto il buon Abramo aveva issato con tanta stupenda, generosa imperizia sopra i resti del cascinale e una rude benda copriva le ferrite di quei mesti giorni, chiamò a gran voce il figlio, il figlio David che accorse—toglimi da questi sterpi e non temer se a te, un pò, m’appiglio! |
When Imoletta* woke up on a limb
When Imoletta woke up on a limb transported by the wind with the tent that after the quake that fine man Abramo had planted with such infinite, generous incompetence on the remains of her farmstead and a rough bandage covered the gashes of those wretched days, she shouted for her son, her son who came quickly running—free me David from this tree and don’t mind me if, just a bit, I cling to you! Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2019 |
*Imoletta was a tiny peasant woman who lived alone in a dilapidated house on a small farm. When the violence of the earthquake razed everything to the ground, no one thought about Imoletta, except a neighbour who gave her an old military tent: her son found her up in an oak tree, swept there by the fury of a windstorm one night. She was trapped in the branches and the lines of the tent. That was the only time Imoletta asked for help.
The poems are from the collection Nel rispetto del cielo, by Paolo Ottaviani (puntoeacapo CollezioneLetteraria) 2015
I would like to thank Paolo Ottaviani for his permission to translate and post his poems.
In rispetto del cielo can be found here: https://www.ibs.it/nel-rispetto-del-cielo-libro-paolo-ottaviani/e/9788898224388
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
parallel texts: words reflected 