| AFA Corrado Govoni Nel cielo soffii di deserto passano, la sera violacea viene, nel giardino le belle rose muoiono olimpicamente serene. E là nei campi di frumento plumbeo si sentono orrendi fragori come uccellacci d’inferno fantastici svolazzano rossi bagliori. È lo scoppio dell’uragano. Franano le nere valanghe del tuono; la pioggia che rimbalza sulle tegole produce un dolcissimo suono. Fulminei nel cielo si stiracchiano diabolici metri di fuoco; sopra zuffe di nuvole si squassano bandiere stracciate di croco. Passa la raffica. Sul fienil madido lucente d’un rosso più vivo all’improvviso s’apre il fresco circolo dell’arcobaleno sportivo. Ma non è pace; se quassù è già limpido e stemprasi l’arco, sottile, laggiù come uno spegnitoio livido profilasi il bel campanile ed un oscuro all’orizzonte seguita percorso da un sordo rumore, come in un cuor che ha perdonato restano residui di amaro livore. Sul cimitero spensierato, tremule s’accendon le stelle incorrotte; s’accendon le fosforescenti lucciole, e cade la splendida notte. Oh dolce spalancar le imposte al turbine e prima di mettersi a letto indugiarsi col vento in faccia a attendere danzare laggiù sopra un tetto le incandescenti vertebre dei fulmini e chiudersi e aprirsi nei campi su panorami candidi di nuvole le brecce turchine dei lampi!! | MUGGY Corrado Govoni In the sky drafts of desert go by, the violet night appears, in the garden the beautiful roses die, olympically serene. And there in the fields of plumbeous grain sounds a horrendous ruckus like fantastically hellish birds of prey a flitter of red flashes. It’s the roar of the storm. Cascades of black avalanches of thunder; the rain off roof tiles ricochets producing a gentle purr. Lightning-fast across the sky stretch diabolic metres of fire; there above the squabbling clouds ragged flags of crocus shudder. The shelling passes. On the sodden now lustrous bright red barn suddenly the fresh circle opens of a sporty rainbow. But it isn’t peace; if the sky is clear and the arc dispelling, subtle, below like a leaden candle douter stands outlined the steeple. And on the horizon darkness persists run through by a muffled din, as in a forgiving heart traces of bitter acrimony remain. On the blithe cemetery, tremulous, come alight unspoiled stars, come alight luminous lightning-bugs, and the splendid night falls. Tender it is to open the panes to the wind and before going to sleep to stand face to the breeze and anticipate the dancing on a rooftop of lightning’s incandescent vertebrae and in the fields closing and opening upon the white displays of clouds the turquoise breaches of lightning! Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2022 |
The poem Afa is from the collection “Poesie elettriche” by Corrado Govoni, 1911.
The text presented numerous difficulties; and every time I translate rhyme, I promise myself I’ll write down the problems I have finding the right solution. I obviously never do. I have sheets of paper with different solutions and lists of synonyms shrewn all over my desk and under my chair and on the windowsill…but after I’ve used them, I forget what I used them for.
Translating poetry is something that gives me infinite pleasure; describing the process takes some of that pleasure away. Suffice it to say that the translation is not perfect: it would be better in the hands of someone else, perhaps. I do my best. I base everything on sound. I listen to the original closely (numerous times), and I try to copy the music. Obviously that means changing words and meanings and sacrificing all kinds of things. But translating rhyme is a game, one I love. So bear with me: it’s been an awful year (and it’s only just started). – Matilda
parallel texts: words reflected 