“The mother / breaks the bread among her little ones, feeds / the fire…”
| Come deve Mario Luzi Che vuoi che vieni da così lontano ed entri a volo cieco nella nebbia fin qua dove gli uccelli anche di nido da ramo e ramo perdono la traccia? La vita come deve si perpetua, dirama in mille rivoli. La madre spezza il pane tra i piccoli, alimenta il fuoco; la giornata scorre piena o uggiosa, arriva un forestiero, parte, cade neve, rischiara o un’acquerugiola di fine inverno soffoca le tinte, impregna scarpe ed abiti, fa notte. È poco, d’altro non vi sono segni. | As it must Mario Luzi What do you want you who come from afar and enter in blind flight into the mist here where the birds even of the nest from branch to branch lose sight? Life as it must goes on, branching into thousands of rivulets. The mother breaks the bread among her little ones, feeds the fire; the day streams full and grey, a stranger arrives, he leaves, snow falls, it clears or a drizzle of end of winter smothers hues, soaks shoes and clothes, night comes. It’s little, of all else there are no signs. Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2024 |
This poem (from the collection La ferita nell’essere, edited by Valerio Nardoni, 2005) is dedicated to my mother who died on this day. So many parts of the poem remind me of her: Motherhood is all about giving, and that she truly did, wholeheartedly. And she does very often arrive to me from the mist ―her words, her smile, her anger at times for not being understood, for not being able to laugh out loud freely without the shaking of heads, the judgement…For we both know that simple does not mean simple-minded, considerate does not mean inane, light-hearted does not mean silly.
Thank your stars if you are simple, considerate, light-hearted. And laugh out loud, embarrassingly so, put your foot in your mouth, yell at the TV, hug, soothe, coddle…Thanks Ma.
Image: Mine, freshly taken. A nice big ancient foot that belongs to a beautiful Medici estate.
This work is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0