A keresés eredménye

Love of Distance

I remember that, when I was in the house
of my mother, in the farmland,
I had a window that looked out
onto meadows

I Don’t Know

I think your way of smiling
is sweeter than the sun
on this vase of flowers
already a little
faded -
 
I think that maybe it’s good
that from me fall
all the trees -
 
That I be a white, deserted yard
to your voice - that maybe
draws the shady paths
for the new
garden.
 
4 October 1933
 
 

Sleep

Oh life,
why
do you carry me in your journey
still,
why
drag along
my heavy sleep?
 
I know
that the purest fountains
dissolving throughout the earth
won’t return
to the soiled snow
its whiteness.
 
Neither will dawn
with tired magic
revive
among the black houses
the dead mimosas.
 
But alone
at evening’s frost
a flower seller will tremble
beside the fountain’s
uselessness.
 
Oh life,
why
does my desperate sleep
not weigh upon you?
 

November

And then – if it happens I go away –
there’ll remain something
of me
in my world –
there’ll remain a slender wake of silence
amid the voices –
a tenuous breath of white
at the heart of azure –
 
And one November evening
a frail little girl
at a street corner
will sell so many chrysanthemums
and there’ll be the stars
ice-cold, green, remote –
 
Someone will cry
who knows where – who knows where –
for me
in the world
when it happens that without return
I’ll have to go away.
 
(Milan, 29th October 1930)
 
 

Confiding

I’ve much faith in you. It seems
that I could await your voice
in silence, for centuries
of darkness.
 
You know all the secrets,
like the sun:
you could make flower
geraniums and wild orange blossom
on the rocky depths
of quarries, of the legendary
prisons.
 
I’ve much faith in you. I’m quiet
like the Arab wrapped
in a white barracan,
who listens to God ripening
his barley round the house.
 
(8th December 1934)