Traducendo Brecht Franco Fortini Un grande temporale per tutto il pomeriggio si è attorcigliato sui tetti prima di rompere in lampi, acqua. Fissavo versi di cemento e di vetro dov’erano grida e piaghe murate e membra anche di me, cui sopravvivo. Con cautela, guardando ora i tegoli battagliati ora la pagina secca, ascoltavo morire…Read more Franco Fortini: Translating Brecht, 1959
Poets translating poets
Poets translating poets: Patrizia Sardisco & Julia Leverone
On Mothering ©Julia Leverone Grown diverted to light on water, pine boughs hang like wings, their tufts soft-skirted meanwhile root cling and anti-gravity strain. Mother, when my father steadied me as I walked sliding stones, forging the hip-deep river— understand that fathering is a quieter endeavor. But earlier: were we not sisters, dressed in…Read more Poets translating poets: Patrizia Sardisco & Julia Leverone
Poets translating poets: Patrizia Sardisco & Julia Leverone
Caribou ©Julia Leverone Caribou summer coats look burnt through, pocked from bite scars or molt or the song of persistent sun, the long summer light coursing the tundra, spotlighting them. A cow and her bull are slow in taking their fill from the river bank, rich moss and brush, polychrome, mottled; A couple are there…Read more Poets translating poets: Patrizia Sardisco & Julia Leverone
Poets translating poets: Roberta De Piccoli & Ralph Waldo Emerson
Music Ralph Waldo Emerson Let me go where’er I will I hear a sky-born music still; It sounds from all things old, It sounds from all things young, From all that’s fair, from all that’s foul, Peals out a cheerful song. It is not only in the rose, It is not only in…Read more Poets translating poets: Roberta De Piccoli & Ralph Waldo Emerson
Poets translating poets: Patrizia Sardisco & Julia Leverone
Correction ©Julia Leverone Weeks slipping under, winter, the sink of chill, a plain burning widening into space— the park made stubble, patches of stalks of tall once-flora. What were they, now fallen over themselves. How seemingly lonely. And so I saw the rush: the bright cardinal flee for life, to hide from my bike…Read more Poets translating poets: Patrizia Sardisco & Julia Leverone
English/Italian/Umbrian Translation: Paolo Ottaviani & Derek Walcott
MAP OF THE NEW WORLD Archipelagoes . by Derek Walcott At the end of this sentence, rain will begin. At the rain’s edge, a sail. Slowly the sail will lose sight of islands; into a mist will go the belief in harbours of an entire race. The ten-years war is finished. Helen’s hair, a…Read more English/Italian/Umbrian Translation: Paolo Ottaviani & Derek Walcott
Poets translating poets: Ottaviani & Frost
The Road Not Taken Robert Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair And having perhaps…Read more Poets translating poets: Ottaviani & Frost
Poets translating poets: Belmonte & Hughes
River Ted Hughes Fallen from heaven, lies across The lap of his mother, broken by world. But water will go on Issuing from heaven In dumbness uttering spirit brightness Through its broken mouth. Scattered in a million pieces and buried Its dry tombs will split, at a sign in the sky, At a rending…Read more Poets translating poets: Belmonte & Hughes
Poets translating poets: Franca Alaimo & Gianna Patriarca
Dolce-Amaro Gianna Patriarca he has learned to bend the way branches do under the white weight of endless Januarys. this country has taken everything his health, his language the respect of his modern children the love of his angry wife. in some forgotten lifetime he was a young, dark-haired man in a ship packed…Read more Poets translating poets: Franca Alaimo & Gianna Patriarca
Poets translating poets: Gianna Patriarca & Franca Alaimo
Niente etichette, per favore Franca Alaimo Non so più dove posare il capo e non ho pensieri, sogni, ricordi che non si porti il vento delle parole che mi attraversano la mente come flussi e riflussi di maree. Come la luna so di appartenere al teatro mobile dell’esistente e non mi aggrappo a niente…Read more Poets translating poets: Gianna Patriarca & Franca Alaimo
Poets translating poets: Alba Gnazi & Walt Whitman
I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC STANZAS 7-8 Walt Whitman 7 A man’s body at auction, (For before the war I often go to the slave-mart and watch the sale,) I help the auctioneer, the sloven does not half know his business. Gentlemen look on this wonder, Whatever the bids of…Read more Poets translating poets: Alba Gnazi & Walt Whitman
Poets translating Poets: Roberta De Piccoli & Emily Dickinson
There is a pain Emily Dickinson There is a pain—so utter— It swallows substance up— Then covers the Abyss with Trance— So Memory can step Around—across—upon it— As one within a Swoon— Goes safely—where an open eye— Would drop Him—Bone by Bone. Esiste una pena Emily Dickinson Esiste una pena…Read more Poets translating Poets: Roberta De Piccoli & Emily Dickinson
Poets translating poets: Paolo Ottaviani & Derek Walcott
Missing the Sea Derek Walcott Something removed roars in the ears of this house, Hangs its drapes windless, stuns mirrors Till reflections lack substance. Some sound like the gnashing of windmills ground To a dead halt; A deafening absence, a blow. It hoops this valley, weighs this mountain, Estranges gesture, pushes this…Read more Poets translating poets: Paolo Ottaviani & Derek Walcott
Poets translating poets: Costantino Belmonte & W. B. Yeats
The Mask William Butler Yeats "PUT off that mask of burning gold With emerald eyes." "O no, my dear, you make so bold To find if hearts be wild and wise, And yet not cold." "I would but find what's there to find, Love or deceit." "It was the mask engaged your mind, And after…Read more Poets translating poets: Costantino Belmonte & W. B. Yeats
The language we carry inside us…by Matilda Colarossi
“Tutto può cambiare, ma non la lingua che ci portiamo dentro”: Italo Calvino. Bellissima osservazione. Ma come interpretarla? Qual è la lingua che ci portiamo dentro? E’ forse la parola che ha accompagnato il primo abbraccio? La prima ninna-nanna? La prima lettura? Dopo anni passati in Italia un amico mi chiese: in che lingua pensi?…Read more The language we carry inside us…by Matilda Colarossi
parallel texts: words reflected 