Poems by Maria Luisa Spaziani Translated by Vincent Frontero
Tender Acts
I
I’d like to feel your cool hand
against my burning forehead. Like this the dew
falls on exhausted rose bushes.
Like this the moon blossoms in the dark.
Help me to love you, to invent you
in your absences. My fantasy
however, is one of your gifts, a clear alibi
in this world of one location.
II
Clover of Treviglio, my pillow
for the sweetest dreams. If life
deals me pain (it happens every so often)
I know where to rest my cheek.
That name is enough to crumble the wings
and backdrop of a pale experience.
Beauty, joy, and youth burst in
spilling out every dam.
Tenerezze
I
Vorrei sentire la tua mano fresca
sulla fronte che brucia. Così scende
sopra i roseti esausti la rugiada.
Così sboccia la luna nel buio.
Aiutami ad amarti, ad inventarti
nelle tue assenze. La mia fantasia
è comunque un tuo dono, un chiaro alibi
in questo mondo senza altrove.
II
Trifoglio di Treviglio, il mio cuscino
per i sogni più belli. Se la vita
mi assesta colpi (capita ogni tanto),
io so dove poggiare la mia guancia.
Basta quel nome e crollano le quinte
e i fondali di un pallido vissuto.
Bellezza, gioia, e giovinezza irrompono
rovesciando ogni diga.
Vegetable Patches and Gardens
I
The Venus maidenhair is a sacred seedling,
the word alone says so, and sweetly the wind
unravels her goddess foliage
born among the rubble at early light.
Goats don’t graze on it,
nor are they certain why. One day I plucked
a frail branch to keep as a bookmark.
It never managed to grow old.
Orti e Giardini
I
È una piantina sacra il capelvenere,
lo dice la parola, e dolcemente
scioglie il vento le chiome della dea
nate fra le macerie al primo sole.
Le capre non lo brucano e non sanno
certo il perché. Ne colsi un giorno un esile
rametto per tenerlo a segnalibro
non riesce a incanutire.
Roma
III
Whoever went to watch a race at the Colosseum
would spit out almonds and peach seeds.
After two thousand years, they were found
by overzealous archeologists.
And they planted them. A decent experiment.
Now a tiny almond tree has been born.
They invite us to admire it. We envy it.
Why not bury us at the Colosseum?
Roma
III
Chi assisteva a una corsa al Colosseo
sputò semi di mandorle e di pesche.
Dopo duemila anni, li ritrovano
i solerti archeologi.
E li hanno piantati. Un bell’esperimento.
Ora è nato un minuscolo mandorlo.
Ci invitano a ammirarlo. Lo invidiamo.
Perché non seppellirci al Colosseo?
Games With Time
II
I listen to time pass hour by hour.
Progressive maturation, or instead
cosmic abacus tallying
the hours lived and those still on credit.
Every single hour emits a sound
that an incredibly attentive ear deciphers:
carillon, andantino, wedding aria,
dissonance, allegretto, gallop, requiem.
Giochi Col Tempo
II
Sento che il tempo passa ora di ora.
Maturazione progressiva, oppure
pallottoliere cosmico che segna
le ore vissute e quelle ancora in credito.
Ogni singola ora emette un suono
che un orecchio attentissimo decifra:
carillon, andantino, aria nuziale,
dissonanze, allegretto, galop, requiem.
Vincent Frontero (He/Him) is a poet, teacher, and translator originally from Spring Lake, NJ. He is currently an Instructor of English at the University of South Carolina Sumter. He has been awarded an MFA in Creative Writing from West Virginia University.
Maria Luisa Spaziani (1922-2014) was an Italian poet, essayist, novelist, playwright, translator, and academic. Although largely rejecting the neoavanguardia, an Italian avant-garde literary movement popular during the 1960s, Spaziani would go on to be highly regarded amongst her peers and critics both in Italy and on the international scene. Such writers and artists included Virginia Woolf, Ezra Pound, Ingeborg Bachmann, Jorge Luis Borges, and Pablo Picasso. Starting in 1954 Maria Luisa Spaziani published nineteen full-length collections of poetry along with several books of fiction and nonfiction prose. She was nominated three times for the Nobel Prize in Literature.
The original poems are © Mondadori Libri SpA, Milano.
11 November 2021
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