SE MAI SOLO VIVENDO MARIO LUZI Mutamenti da un’ora all’altra di nuvole oscurano, rischiarano la stanza, variano il corso dei pensieri. Il cane sonnecchia steso tra la madia e l’angolo o si strofina contro muri e spigoli finché ritorna ad accucciarsi. Le ore passano senza che altro ne dia segno o storni almeno un po’ la mente. La luce infiamma o lascia oscuro il tavolo e il vassoio, sul vassoio le arance. E’ un giorno senza novità o persone… Tu che occupi tutta quanto è vasta epoca dopo epoca la storia, in tutta l’altezza dai fondali alle montagne dove in rocce vietate all’uomo incerto muove i passi lo scerpa ma diffondi oscurità difficile a forare e se mai solo vivendo, se mai solo scendendo questa scala, è un giorno senza novità o persone ora di batticuore ora più certo d’un libro aperto sulla giusta pagina, un giorno, un giorno tra il prima e il poi, tra il cibo e il sonno.

IF EVER ONLY BY LIVING MARIO LUZI Mutations from one hour to the other of clouds obscure, make clearer the space, alter my train of thought. The dog dozes between the sideboard and the corner, or he rubs against walls and edges until he lies back down again. The hours pass with nothing else to direct or divert at least a bit my mind. The lamp blazes or leaves obscure the table and the tray, on the tray oranges. It is a day with no news or persons… You who occupy all that is vast epoch after epoch history, in all the heights from sea bottoms to mountains where in rocks forbidden to man unsure are the Sherpa’s steps but you spread obscurity difficult to penetrate and if ever only by living if ever only by descending this ladder, it is a day with no news or persons now of palpitations now more certain of a book open on the right page, a day, a day between the before and after, between food and sleep. Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2024

I chose this poem by Mario Luzi for its shades of light and dark, for the uncertainty of life so well depicted, for the vastness of space and the smallest of moments “between… between…” when understanding is possible “if ever only by living”. I’d like to dedicate it to all those people who, like me, are ever in search of an answer.

The poem found here is from the collection Mario Luzi, La ferita nell’essere, published by Passigli Ed., Firenze, 2004.

The poetic devices include: anastrophe (vv 1, 8, 16); assonance (use of the letter A v1); antithesis (oscurano/rischiarono); consonance (vv 2, 4, 5); anaphora (v 10); the ultimate solutions, however, involve sound, the music of the poem as I hear it.

A friend, Radhika, asked me how I choose one word over another, and I’d like to try to answer her, and in doing so to understand my choices.

So here are some examples of what goes on in my ever-confused mind:

The repetition of the letter A in v , for example, made me change what I first wrote, “one hour to the next” (da un’ora all’altra) to “one hour to the other”. I decided to do this to keep the assonance (albeit I use short O and not A) which gives the verse musicality, creating a rhythm within the words themselves.

In v 2, for oscurare I initially used “darken”, which is the correct translation but not only lacks the double meaning (dark and unclear) but limited my choices when trying to recreate the internal rhyme (oscuRANA, rischiaRANO, vaRIANO). Once oscurare became “obscure” I translated rischiarono with “make lighteR” and variano with “alteR” (in an attempt to reproduce the rhyme).  

In v 4, the alliteration in sonnecchia steso (lies napping) moves up a verse into the enjambement and creates the alliteration “the dog dozes” (I do this often: when I can’t reproduce the poetic device without losing the meaning, I shift it to somewhere else in the text).

In v 5, the alliteration, the S (si strofina…spigoli) becomes consonance (rubS againSt wallS and edgeS).

In v 9, in “la luce infiamma o lascia oscuro il tavolo”, we find the repetition of the vowel A and O (with a touch of U); at first, I simply translated it with “the light glows or leaves dark the table”, respecting the anastrophe but losing the assonance and consonance. So I kept changing it until I finally decided to go with “The lamp blazes or leaves obscure the table”, which loses the second U sound, gains an E sound, but keeps the assonance and consonance (A and O, and L and B)…

This the sort of game I play when I translate a poem: after I have understood what the poet wants to express and have chosen the words to express it, I go on to find synonyms that I play with, like a puzzle, mixing and matching until I create sounds I find satisfying (though never perfect). It is, really, only a matter of trailing the poet, like on some sort of poetry hunt, following the poet’s path to capture (and reproduce) the music they so beautifully created. – M.C.