Speranza

Guido Gozzano

 

Il gigantesco rovere abbattuto

l’intero inverno giacque sulla zolla,

mostrando in cerchi, nelle sue midolla

i centonovant’anni che ha vissuto.

 

Ma poi che Primavera ogni corolla

dischiuse con le mani di velluto,

dai monchi nodi qua e là rampolla

e sogna ancora d’essere fronzuto.

 

Rampolla e sogna − immemore di scuri −

l’eterna volta cerula e serena

e gli ospiti canori e i frutti e l’ire

 

aquilonari e i secoli futuri…

Non so perché mi faccia tanta pena

quel moribondo che non vuol morire!

 

Hope

Guido Gozzano

 

The colossal durmast oak lay felled

all winter long on a clump of dirt,

displaying in rings, within its heart

the one hundred and ninety years lived.

 

But as Spring with hands of velvet

every corolla unfolded,

from nodes maimed it still does sprout

and dream of canopies verdant.

 

It does sprout and dream― axes gone―

of the eternal vault blue and clear

and of choral friends and fruits and cold

 

winds and the centuries to come…

I don’t know why I feel so sorry

for that dying tree that just won’t go!

 

 

Translation©Matilda Colarossi 2020

The poem if from the collection “La via del rifugio” by Guido Gozzano, 1907

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

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