PIOGGIA D’AUTUNNO Ada Negri Stanotte udíi, fra veglia e sonno, un canto lieve, sommesso, e pur vasto siccome il vasto mondo; e mi parea nel sogno di navigare in barca senza remi su grigio mare, dentro un vel di pioggia. Era la pioggia, sí; ma sovra un mare di fronde, mormoranti di felice ristoro, nelle tenebre: la prima pioggia d’autunno, dopo un’arsa estate tutta febbre di sole; ed or s’ostina nell’alba smorta, ed ogni albero piange che la riceve. Ma quel pianto è riso, profondo, inestinguibile: di donna che troppo attese, ed or non sa se gioia o dolore è l’amplesso che l’avvolge. Vorrei, pioggia d’autunno, essere foglia che s’imbeve di te sin nelle fibre che l’uniscono al ramo, e il ramo al tronco, e il tronco al suolo; e tu dentro le vene passi, e ti spandi, e sí gran sete plachi. So che annunci l’inverno: che fra breve quella foglia cadrà, fatta colore della ruggine, e al fango andrà commista; ma le radici nutrirà del tronco per rispuntar dai rami a primavera. Vorrei, pioggia d’autunno, essere foglia, abbandonarmi al tuo scrosciare, certa che non morrò, che non morrò, che solo muterò volto sin che avrà la terra le sue stagioni, e un albero avrà fronde. | AUTUMN RAIN Ada Negri Tonight I heard, between waking and slumber, a song soft, hushed, and yet vast just as the world is vast; and I seemed in sleep to be sailing on a boat with no oars on grey seas, inside a blanket of rain. It was rain, yes; but on a sea of canopies, murmuring with joyful relief, in the darkness: the first autumn rain, after a sweltering summer of feverish sun; and it continues still in the dismal dawn, and every tree weeps upon receiving it. But those tears are laughter, profound, inextinguishable: of woman too long awaiting, who doesn’t know if of joy or pain are the arms that envelop her. I would like, autumn rain, to be leaf that is imbibed in you down to the fibres that bind it to the branch, and the branch to the trunk, and the trunk to the earth; and you inside veins run, and you extend, and so great a thirst you quench. I know you announce the winter: that soon that leaf will fall, turned the colour of rust, and with the soil it will mix; but nourish it will the roots of the trunk and sprout again from branches at spring. I would like, autumn rain, to be leaf abandon myself to your downpour, certain I will not die, I will not die, but only my face will change for as long as the earth has seasons, and a tree has a canopy. Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2020 |
From the collection Il dono, Ada Negri. – Milano : A. Mondadori, 1936
In the poem, again we find leaves as a metaphor for life; and the falling of leaves a metaphor for our demise. Here Negri furthers her reflection on the circle of life: with the falling of leaves, in fact, comes new life.
Please find more poetry on the topic here.
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