ITALIANS POEMS
Eugenio
Montale
(1945)
Due
nel crepuscolo
Fluisce
fra te e me sul belvedere
un
chiarore subacqueo che deforma
col profilo dei
colli anche il tuo viso.
Sta in un fondo sfuggevole, reciso
da
te ogni gesto tuo; entra senz’orma,
e sparisce, nel mezzo che ricolma
ogni solco e si chiude sul tuo passo:
con me tu qui, dentro quest’aria scesa
a sigillare
il torpore dei massi.
Ed
io riverso
nel potere che grava attorno, cedo
al sortilegio di non riconoscere
di me più nulla fuor di me; s’io levo
appena il braccio, mi si fa diverso
l’atto, si spezza su un cristallo, ignota
e impallidita sua memoria, e il gesto
già più non m’appartiene;
se parlo, ascolto quella voce attonito,
scendere alla sua gamma più remota
o spenta all’aria che non la sostiene.
Tale
nel punto che resiste all’ultima
consunzione del giorno
dura lo smarrimento; poi un soffio
risolleva le valli in un frenetico
moto e deriva dalle fronde un tinnulo
suono che si disperde
tra rapide fumate e i primi lumi
disegnano gli scali.
...
le parole
tra noi leggere cadono. Ti guardo
in un molle riverbero. Non so
se ti conosco; so che mai diviso
fui da te come accade in questo tardo
ritorno. Pochi istanti hanno bruciato
tutto di noi: fuorchè due volti, due
maschere che s’incidono, sforzate
di un sorriso.
English version
Two
In Twilight
There
flows between us on the terrace
an
underwater light that distorts
the
profile of the hills and even your face.
Every
gesture of yours, cut from you,
looms
on an elusive background; enters without wake,
and
vanishes, in the midst of what drowns
every
furrow, and closes over your passage:
you
here, with me, in this air that descends
to
seal
the
torpor of boulders.
And
I flow
into
the power that weighs around me,
into
the spell of no longer recognizing
anything
of myself beyond myself; if I only
raise
my arm, I perform the action
otherwise,
a crystal is shattered there,
its
memory pallid forgotten, and already
the
gesture no longer belongs to me;
if
I speak, I hear this voice astonished,
descend
to its remotest scale,
or
die in the unsupportive air.
In
such moments that resist to the last
dissolution
of day
bewilderment
endures: then a gust
rouses
the valleys in frenetic
motion,
draws from the leaves a ringing
sound
that disperses
through
fleeting smoke, and first light
outlines
the dockyards.
…words
fall
weightless between us. I look at you
in
the soft reverberation. I do not know
if
I know you; I know I was never as divided
from
you as now in this late
return.
A few moments have consumed
us
whole: except two faces, two
strained
masks, etched
in
a smile.
Salvatore
Quasimodo (1946)
Epitaffio
per Bice Donetti
Con
gli occhi alla pioggia e agli elfi della
notte, è là, nel campo quindici a Musocco,
la donna emiliana da me amata nel
tempo triste della giovinezza.
Da poco fu giocata dalla morte
mentre guardava quieta il vento dell'autunno
scrollare i rami dei platani e le foglie
dalla grigia casa di periferia.
Il suo volto è ancora vivo di sorpresa,
come fu certo nell'infanzia, fulminato
per il mangiatore di fuoco alto sul carro.
O tu che passi, spinto da altri morti,
davanti alla fossa undici sessanta,
fermati un minuto a salutare quella
che non si dolse mai dell'uomo che
qui rimane, odiato, coi suoi versi,
uno come tanti, operaio di sogni.
English version
Epitaph
for Bice Donetti
(Con
gli occhi alla pioggia e agli elfi della)
With
her eyes to the rain and the imps of
night,
she is there, in plot fifteen at Musocco,
the
woman from Emilia I loved in
the
sad days of youth.
She
was recently toyed with by death
while
she quietly watched the autumn wind
shake
the branches and leaves of the plane trees
of
her grey suburban home.
Her
face was still alive with surprise,
as
it was surely in childhood; struck
by
the fire-eater high on his cart.
O
you who pass by, brought by other dead,
there
before grave eleven sixty
stop
for a moment to salute her
who
never complained of the man who
remains
behind, despised, with his verses,
one
like so many, a worker with dreams.
FINNISH, or in fact SWEDISH POEMS:
Tjugosjätte
dikten
(nostalgisk visa) written by Claes Andersson
Först när man förlorat allt vet man
att man ägt det.
Först när kärleken tagit har tagit slut vet man
att man älskat.
Först när golvet börjar luta förstår man
tryggheten.
Först när du var borta fick jag syn
på dig.
Först när famnen vissnat förstod jag
blomningen.
Först när allt tog slut vågade
jag börja.
Först när ungdomen försvann började
jag älska den.
Först när kroppen svek mig blev jag
mån om den.
Först när man förlorat allt vet man
att man ägt det.
English version:
The
27th poem
(nostalgic song)
Not until you have lost everything
you realize you owned it.
Not until love has ended
you realize you have loved.
Not until the floor starts leaning
you understand safety.
Not until you were gone
I caught sight of you.
Not until the arms with flowers had withered
I realized the blooming.
Not until everything ended
I dared to start.
Not until the youth disappeared
I began to love it.
Not until my body betrayed me
I started caring about it.
Not
until you have lost everything
you realize you owned it.
Regn written by Larry Silvan (from Ekenäs)
Små, lätta, kalla droppar
mot min hand
glänser svagt
då de möter ljuset
från gatlyktan
som varm ensamhet
inför tystnaden på morgonen.
Taket lyssnar fortfarande.
Jag väntar ingenting.
Ansiktet, händerna,
tankarna, marken, huset,
bilarna, fabriken,
allt är tyst.
Regnet är så nära,
då jag sluter ögonen.
Det dränker alla ljud.
English version:
Small,
light, cold drops
against my hand
weakly glittering
when they meet the light
from the street lamp
like warm loneliness
before the silence in the morning.
The roof is still listening.
I expect nothing.
The face, the hands,
the thoughts, the ground, the house
the cars, the factory,
everything is quiet.
The rain is so near
When I close my eyes.
It´s drowned by all the sounds.
SPANISH POEMS:
Aunque
tú no lo sepas, de Luís García Montero
Como
la luz de un sueño,
que no raya en el mundo pero existe,
así he vivido yo
iluminando
esa parte de ti que no conoces,
la vida que has llevado junto a mis pensamientos.
Y aunque tú no lo sepas, yo te he visto
cruzar la puerta sin decir que no,
pedirme un cenicero, curiosear los libros,
responder al deseo de mis labios
con tus labios de whisky,
seguir mis pasos hasta el dormitorio.
También hemos hablado
en la cama, sin prisa, muchas tardes
esta cama de amor que no conoces,
la misma que se queda
fría cuanto te marchas.
Aunque tú no lo sepas te inventaba conmigo,
hicimos mil proyectos, paseamos
por todas las ciudades que te gustan,
recordamos canciones, elegimos renuncias,
aprendiendo los dos a convivir
entre la realidad y el pensamiento.
Espiada a la sombra de tu horario
o en la noche de un bar por mi sorpresa.
Así he vivido yo,
como la luz del sueño
que no recuerdas cuando te despierta
English version:
Tough
You May Not Know by Luís García Montero
As
the light of a dream,
That
can’t enlighten the world but still exists,
This
is how I’ve lived
Illuminating
That
part of yourself that you don’t know,
The
life you’ve led together with my thoughts...
And
though you may not know, I’ve seen you
Going
through the door without denying,
Asking
for an ashtray, looking over the books,
Responding
to the desire of my lips
With
your whisky lips,
Following
my steps to the bedroom.
We
have also talked
In
bed, slowly, many evenings
This
bed of love that you don’t know,
The
same bed that gets cold
As
you leave.
Though
you may not know, I invented you with me
We
planned a thousand projects, we walked along
Every
city you love,
We
remembered songs, we chose abdications
Both
learning to live
Between
reality and thinking.
Being
spied in the shadow of your schedule
Or
in the night of a club by my surprise.
I’ve
lived this way,
As
the light of a dream
That
you don’t remember when you wake up.
Para
que yo me llame, de Ángel González
Para
que yo me llame,
para que mi ser pese sobre el
suelo,
fue necesario un ancho espacio
y un largo tiempo:
hombres de todo el mar y toda tierra,
fértiles vientres de mujer, y cuerpos
y más cuerpos, fundiéndose incesantes
en otro cuerpo nuevo.
Solsticios y equinoccios alumbraron
con su cambiante luz, su vario cielo,
el viaje milenario de mi carne
trepando por los siglos y los huesos.
De su pasaje lento y doloroso
de su huida hasta el fin, sobreviviendo
naufragios, aferrándose
al último suspiro de los muertos,
yo no soy más que el resultado, el fruto,
lo que queda, podrido, entre los restos;
esto que veis aquí,
tan sólo esto:
un escombro tenaz, que se resiste
a su ruina, que lucha contra el viento,
que avanza por caminos que no llevan
a ningún sitio. El éxito
de todos los fracasos. La enloquecida
fuerza del desaliento...
English version:
Before I Could Call Myself
Before
I could call myself,
before the earth could support the weight of my body,
a long time
and a great space were necessary:
men from all the seas and all the lands,
fertile wombs of women, and bodies
and more bodies, incessantly fusing
into another new body.
Solstices and equinoxes illuminated
with their changing lights, and variegated skies,
the millenary trip of my flesh
as it climbed over centuries and bones.
Of its slow and painful journey,
of its escape to the end, surviving
shipwrecks, anchoring itself
to the last sigh of the dead,
I am only the result, the fruit,
what's left, rotting, among the remains;
what you see here,
is just that:
tenacious trash resisting
its ruin, fighting against wind,
walking streets that go
nowhere. The success
of all failures. The insane
force of dismay…
FRENCH POEMS
Les
Enfants qui s’aiment
Par
Jacques
Prévert
Les
enfants qui s’aiment s’embrassent debout
Contre
les portes de la nuit
Et
les passants qui passent les désignent du doigt
Mais
les enfants qui s’aiment
Ne
sont là pour personne
Et
c’est seulement leur ombre
Qui
tremble dans la nuit
Excitant
la rage des passants
Leur
rage leur mépris leurs rires et leur envie
Les
enfants qui s’aiment ne sont là pour personne
Ils
sont ailleurs bien plus loin que la nuit
Bien
plus haut que le jour
Dans
l’éblouissante clarté de leur premier amour.
ENGLISH VERSION
The Young Lovers
By Jacques Prevert
The young lovers embrace standing up
Against the doorways of the night
And passers-by who go by point a finger at them
But the young lovers
Aren’t there for anyone
And it is only their shadow
That trembles in the night
Arousing the rage of the passers-by
Their rage their scorn their laughter and their jealousy
Young lovers are n
ot there for anyone
They are elsewhere much further away than the night
Much higher than the day
In the dazzling clarity of their first love.
Ne
me quitte pas
par
Jacques Brel
Ne
me quitte pas
Il faut oublier
Tout peut s´oublier
Qui s´enfuit déjà
Oublier le temps
Des malentendus
Et le temps perdu
A savoir comment
Oublier ces heures
Qui tuaient parfois
A coups de pourquoi
Le cœur du bonheur
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Moi je t´offrirai
Des perles de pluie
Venues de pays
Où il ne pleut pas
Je creuserai la terre
Jusqu´après ma mort
Pour couvrir ton corps
D´or et de lumière
Je ferai un domaine
Où l´amour sera roi
Où l´amour sera loi
Où tu seras reine
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
ENGLISH VERSION
If
You Go Away
by
Jacques Brel & Frank Sinatra
If
you go away on this summer day
Then you might as well take the sun away
All the birds that flew in the summer sky
When our love was new and our hearts were high
When the days were young and the night was long
And the moon stood still for the night birds' song
If
you go away
If you go away
If you go away
But
if you stay I'll make you a day
Like no day has been or will be again
We'll sail the sun, we'll ride on the rain
And talk to the trees and worship the wind
But if you go I'll understand
Leave me just enough love to fill up my hand
If
you go away
If you go away
If you go away
If
you go away as I know you will
You must tell the world to stop turning
Till you return again, if you ever do
For what good is love without loving you?
Can I tell you now as you turn to go
I'll be dying slowly till the next hello
If
you go away
If you go away
If you go away
But
if you stay I'll make you a night
Like no night has been or will be again
I'll sail on your smile, I'll ride on your touch
I'll talk your eyes that I love so much
But if you go I won't cry
For the good is gone from the world, goodbye
