\nBARREN ROCK<\/p>\n
How far I had to walk
\njust to be near you,
\nbarren rock,
\nall that’s left of the empire
\nthat once ruled the seas,
\nnot to mention the earth,
\nthe entire world known to men
\nof the past which is now a shadow
\nknown only to lovers of myth,
\nas well as to ordinary lovers,
\nto whom you appear in a dream,
\nas you twice appeared to me,
\nbarren rock.
\n <\/p>\n
PIETRA BRULLA<\/p>\n
Quanto ho dovuto camminare * * * I evoke you but you’re asleep. PSICHE AD EROS <\/p>\n Ti evoco ma stai dormendo. * * * Treasure of the world, Why should I belong to the species POESIA SCRITTA DURANTE GLI INCENDI BOSCHIVI AUSTRALIANI <\/p>\n Tesoro del mondo, Perch\u00e9 devo appartenere all specie SYMBOLS WORN OUT BY TIME<\/p>\n What is a flower SIMBOLI LOGORATI DAL TEMPO<\/p>\n Che cos\u2019\u00e8 un fiore * * * I will grow myself quiet leaves I will hide in the immense namelessness I am the bed of leaves he can never scorch, I am the naked face of the flower; a cross. The god and the goal; the lover and the loved; Though a god, he will die in the depths of my bark. Every eagle will have his eyelids. Each one of the thousand suns Each one of the symbols of silence I am he: the sun, its immense bowl He is I: the ever-green song in flight, DAFNE PARLA Mi nasconder\u00f2 nell\u2019immensa anonimit\u00e0, Sono il letto di foglie che egli non brucer\u00e0 mai, Sono il volto nudo del fiore, una croce Sebbene sia un dio, morir\u00e0 nel profondo della mia corteccia. Tutte le aquile avranno le sue palpebre. Ognuno dei mille soli Ognuno dei simboli del silenzio Io sono lui: il sole, la sua immensa sfera Lui \u00e8 me: la canzone sempreverde in fuga, \u041f\u0435\u0440\u0435\u0432\u0435\u043b \u0441 \u0430\u043d\u0433\u043b\u0438\u0439\u0441\u043a\u043e\u0433\u043e \u043d\u0430 \u0438\u0442\u0430\u043b\u044c\u044f\u043d\u0441\u043a\u0438\u0439 \u041c\u0430\u0440\u043a\u043e \u041f\u0440\u0430\u0434\u0435\u0440\u0438\u043e<\/em> MEDALS, ETC.<\/p>\n Spirit of memory, («What use is pride Pride of a survivor is fiction, MEDAGLIE, ECC. (\u201cA che cosa serve l\u2019orgoglio, L\u2019orgoglio di un sopravvissuto \u00e8 opera di fantasia, Be in me as a voiceless song INCANTESIMO<\/p>\n Sii in me come un canto senza voce * * * <\/p>\n LILIES AND PHOENICIAN WINE<\/p>\n Lilies and Phoenician wine, GIGLI E VINO FENICIO <\/p>\n Gigli e vino fenicio, \u041f\u0435\u0440\u0435\u0432\u0435\u043b \u0441 \u0430\u043d\u0433\u043b\u0438\u0439\u0441\u043a\u043e\u0433\u043e \u043d\u0430 \u0438\u0442\u0430\u043b\u044c\u044f\u043d\u0441\u043a\u0438\u0439 \u041c\u0430\u0440\u043a\u043e \u041f\u0440\u0430\u0434\u0435\u0440\u0438\u043e<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":18816,"parent":0,"template":"","translations-type":[],"class_list":["post-15357","translations","type-translations","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/eastwestliteraryforum.com\/rus\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/translations\/15357","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/eastwestliteraryforum.com\/rus\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/translations"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/eastwestliteraryforum.com\/rus\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/translations"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/eastwestliteraryforum.com\/rus\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/translations\/15357\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18907,"href":"https:\/\/eastwestliteraryforum.com\/rus\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/translations\/15357\/revisions\/18907"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eastwestliteraryforum.com\/rus\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/18816"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/eastwestliteraryforum.com\/rus\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15357"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"translations-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eastwestliteraryforum.com\/rus\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/translations-type?post=15357"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nsolo per esserti vicina,
\npietra brulla,
\nil tutto che rimane dell’impero
\nche una volta regnava sui mari,
\nper non parlare della terra,
\nil mondo intero conosciuto dai uomini
\ndel passato che adesso \u00e8 solo un ombra
\nnota solo ad amanti di mito,
\ncome anche ad amanti comuni,
\nai quali tu appari in sogno,
\ncome due volte sei apparsa a me,
\npietra brulla.
\n
\n\u041f\u0435\u0440\u0435\u0432\u0435\u043b\u0430 \u0441 \u0430\u043d\u0433\u043b\u0438\u0439\u0441\u043a\u043e\u0433\u043e \u043d\u0430 \u0438\u0442\u0430\u043b\u044c\u044f\u043d\u0441\u043a\u0438\u0439 \u041b\u043e\u0440\u0430 \u041a\u043b\u0438\u043d\u043a\u043e\u043d<\/em>
\n <\/p>\n
\n
\nPSYCHE TO EROS<\/p>\n
\nI awaken you but you don’t hear.
\nYour sleeping breath reaches from here to there
\nIn a majestic arc thrown from shore to shore.
\nWhen I’m near you, I’m near an ocean:
\nvoices, wave-like, break their will to the ear
\nOf the mind that only seems asleep.
\nThe intelligence of sleep you’ve given me,
\nthe goodness of thought that comes from
\n\t\t\ta deeper peace,
\nfrom under the static rippling the surface.
\nTo still the surface, I evoke you.
\n <\/p>\n
\nTi sveglio ma tu non senti.
\nIl tuo fiato in sonno giunge di qu\u00e0 in l\u00e0
\nIn un arco maestoso lanciato da riva a riva.
\nQuando ti sono vicina, sono accanto a un oceano:
\nvoci, come onde, gridano la loro volont\u00e0 all’orrechio
\ndella mente che solo sembra dormire.
\nL’intelligenza del sonno che mi hai dato,
\nla bont\u00e0 di pensiero che viene da
\n\t\t\t\tuna pace pi\u00f9 pofonda,
\nda sotto l’increspatura invariata della superfice,
\nPer calmare la superficie, ti evoco.
\n
\n\u041f\u0435\u0440\u0435\u0432\u0435\u043b\u0430 \u0441 \u0430\u043d\u0433\u043b\u0438\u0439\u0441\u043a\u043e\u0433\u043e \u043d\u0430 \u0438\u0442\u0430\u043b\u044c\u044f\u043d\u0441\u043a\u0438\u0439 \u041b\u043e\u0440\u0430 \u041a\u043b\u0438\u043d\u043a\u043e\u043d<\/em>
\n <\/p>\n
\n
\nPOEM WRITTEN DURING AUSTRALIAN BUSHFIRES <\/p>\n
\nlittle animal boy,
\nyou and you and you,
\nlone survivors,
\nwombats and kangaroos,
\nmy love for you is so huge,
\nlet it revive you,
\nlet it give you rain,
\nlet it give you green leaves,
\nthriving eucalyptus trees galore!
\nSinged koalas and wallabies;
\nalthough I rarely pray,
\nI pray for you now,
\nheal, breathe, eat, multiply,
\nteach us how to save you,
\nteach us how to live
\nso no fires can harm you ever.<\/p>\n
\nthat multiplies at your expense,
\ntreasure of our world,
\nmarvel of the far-away continent,
\ndon\u2019t die, little animal boy,
\nstay, be, teach us,
\nbut don\u2019t forgive us our cruel stupidity.
\nYou hear me?
\nIt\u2019s your turn now:
\nstay and multiply,
\noutnumber us.
\nLive.
\n <\/p>\n
\npiccolo bambino animale,
\ntu e tu e tu,
\nunici scampati,
\nvombati e canguri,
\nil mio amore per voi \u00e8 tanto grande,
\nlasciate che vi risusciti,
\nlasciate che vi dia pioggia,
\nlasciate che vi dia fogli verdi,
\nrigogliosi eucalipti in abbondanza!
\nKoala e wallaby scottati;
\nsebbene prego di rado,
\nprego adesso per voi,
\nguarite, respirate, mangiate, moltiplicate,
\ninsegnateci come salvarvi,
\ninsegnateci come vivere
\ncos\u00ec che nessun incendio vi possa mai nuocere.<\/p>\n
\nche si prolifera a vostro danno,
\ntesoro del nostro mondo,
\nmeraviglia del lontanto continente,
\nnon perisci, piccolo marmocchio animale,
\nrimani, sii, insegnaci,
\nma non perdonarci la nostra crudele stupidit\u00e0.
\nMi senti?
\nAdesso tocca a te:
\nrimani e moltiplichi,
\nprevalga su di noi.
\nVivi.
\n
\n\u041f\u0435\u0440\u0435\u0432\u0435\u043b\u0430 \u0441 \u0430\u043d\u0433\u043b\u0438\u0439\u0441\u043a\u043e\u0433\u043e \u043d\u0430 \u0438\u0442\u0430\u043b\u044c\u044f\u043d\u0441\u043a\u0438\u0439 \u041b\u043e\u0440\u0430 \u041a\u043b\u0438\u043d\u043a\u043e\u043d<\/em>
\n
\n*******
\n <\/p>\n
\nthat never opens?
\nWhat is a word
\nthat remains unsaid?
\nWhat is a rock
\nthat does not get thrown?
\nWhat is an island
\nthat remains uninhabited?
\nWhat is a thought
\nthat remains unfocused?
\nWhat is a child
\nthat remains unborn?
\nWhat is a homeland
\nthat is forgotten?
\nWhat is an animal
\nthat becomes extinct?
\nWhat is beauty
\nthat is not set apart?
\nWhat are eyes
\nthat do not see beauty?
\nWhat is a protest
\nthat does not destroy
\nsymbols that dot the landscape?
\nWhat is a landscape
\nthat is made of symbols?
\nWhat is history
\nbut new meanings
\nfor symbols worn out by time?
\n <\/p>\n
\nche non si dischiude mai?
\nChe cos\u2019\u00e8 una parola
\nche rimane non detta?
\nChe cos\u2019 \u00e8 una pietra
\nche non viene scagliata?
\nChe cos\u2019 \u00e8 un\u2019isola
\nche rimane disabitata?
\nChe cos\u2019\u00e8 un pensiero
\nche rimane imprecisato?
\nChe cos\u2019 \u00e8 un bambino
\nche rimane non nato?
\nChe cos\u2019 \u00e8 una patria
\nche viene dimenticata?
\nChe cos\u2019 \u00e8 un animale
\nche si \u00e8 estinto?
\nChe cos\u2019 \u00e8 la bellezza
\nche non si distingue?
\nChe cosa sono gli occhi
\nche non vedono la bellezza?
\nChe cos\u2019 \u00e8 una protesta
\nche non distrugge
\ni simboli che punteggiano il paesaggio?
\nChe cos\u2019\u00e8 un paesaggio
\nche \u00e8 fatto di simboli?
\nChe cos\u2019 \u00e8 la storia
\nse non nuovi significati
\nper i simboli logorati dal tempo?
\n
\n\u041f\u0435\u0440\u0435\u0432\u0435\u043b \u0441 \u0430\u043d\u0433\u043b\u0438\u0439\u0441\u043a\u043e\u0433\u043e \u043d\u0430 \u0438\u0442\u0430\u043b\u044c\u044f\u043d\u0441\u043a\u0438\u0439 \u041c\u0430\u0440\u043a\u043e \u041f\u0440\u0430\u0434\u0435\u0440\u0438\u043e<\/em>
\n <\/p>\n
\n
\nDAPHNE SPEAKS<\/p>\n
\nin the difficult silence of chastity.<\/p>\n
\nthough each tree murmurs to him my name.<\/p>\n
\nnot even with his eyes of fire.<\/p>\n
\nHe cannot escape by reaching me.<\/p>\n
\nthe pursuit and the flight, entwined.<\/p>\n
\nI will glisten his face on my leaves.<\/p>\n
\nEvery event \u2014 his speed.<\/p>\n
\nwill pursue me as he has chased.<\/p>\n
\nwill learn his name I refuse to bear.<\/p>\n
\npouring out selves as from a fount of chastity.<\/p>\n
\nthe sun forever pursuing me.
\n <\/p>\n
\n
\nMi far\u00f2 crescere foglie taciturne
\nnel silenzio difficile della castit\u00e0.<\/p>\n
\nsebbene ogni albero gli sussurri il mio nome.<\/p>\n
\nneppure coi suoi occhi di fuoco.<\/p>\n
\na cui egli non pu\u00f2 sfuggire raggiungendomi.
\nIl dio e la meta; l\u2019amante e l\u2019amata;
\nl\u2019inseguimento e la fuga, intrecciati.<\/p>\n
\nRifletter\u00f2 il suo volto sulle mie foglie.<\/p>\n
\nTutti gli eventi \u2013 la sua velocit\u00e0.<\/p>\n
\nmi inseguir\u00e0, perch\u00e9 egli mi ha dato la caccia.<\/p>\n
\nimparer\u00e0 il suo nome, che io rifiuto di portare.<\/p>\n
\nche riversa la progenie come da una sorgente di castit\u00e0.<\/p>\n
\nil sole che mi insegue per sempre.<\/p>\n
\n
\n* * *
\n <\/p>\n
\ntempted by pride,
\nby a display of medals
\non an old man\u2019s jacket
\n— we saw, we died, we won —
\nnot exactly the old \u201cveni vidi vici\u201d;
\nno need to tempt mortality
\nwith tales of heroic feats,
\nas you, too, are mortal,
\nand your time shall come.
\nMy father, a veteran,
\nnever showed off his medals.
\nI saw them only once,
\nwhen I was six or seven,
\n\u201cShow me!\u201d I insisted.
\nHe showed me an old cardboard box
\nwith several dusty medals,
\ntwo or three or four,
\nI don\u2019t remember exactly;
\nhe never took them out of that box,
\nand when we left our Soviet motherland forever,
\nit remained on a windowsill
\nof our Moscow apartment,
\ntogether with my mother\u2019s PhD dissertation,
\n(there were only so many \u2013 or so few—
\nthings you could take with you in those days,
\nand I, a silly child, refused to leave
\nwithout my childhood paintings,
\nso they took my paintings and books and photographs,
\nall of these were given to a Dutch consul,
\nas you couldn\u2019t take certain things with you
\nin those early days when Soviet Jews
\nwere exchanged for American grain),
\nthat’s how my childhood paintings
\nwon over the medals.<\/p>\n
\nafter twenty members of your family
\nare slaughtered like cattle?»)<\/p>\n
\nmy father said,
\nand he agreed with Primo Levy,
\nmaybe that\u2019s why he never showed his medals,
\nnever even mentioned he was a veteran,
\nnever joined any parade
\nor a veterans\u2019 group;
\nhe didn\u2019t kill himself like Primo Levy,
\nhe didn’t talk about the war,
\nyet his thoughts were passed on to me
\nlike a silent memory,
\nand maybe that\u2019s why sometimes I remember
\nthings I never lived through myself.
\n <\/p>\n
\n
\nSpirito della memoria,
\ntentato dall\u2019orgoglio,
\ncon uno sfoggio di medaglie,
\nsulla giacca di un anziano
\n-abbiamo visto, siamo morti, abbiamo vinto-
\nnon esattamente l\u2019antico \u201cveni, vidi, vici\u201d;
\nnon c\u2019\u00e8 bisogno di tentare la mortalit\u00e0
\ncon racconti di imprese eroiche,
\npoich\u00e9 anche tu sei mortale
\ne arriver\u00e0 il tuo momento.
\nMio padre, un veterano,
\nnon sfoggiava mai le proprie medaglie.
\nLe vidi solo una volta,
\nquando avevo sei o sette anni.
\n\u201cFammele vedere!\u201d \u2013 insistetti..
\nMi mostr\u00f2 una vecchia scatola di cartone
\ncon diverse medaglie impolverate,
\ndue o tre o quattro,
\nnon ricordo con esattezza,
\nnon le tirava mai fuori da quella scatola
\ne quando abbiamo lasciato per sempre la nostra madrepatria sovietica
\n\u00e8 rimasta su un davanzale
\ndel nostro appartamento di Mosca,
\ninsieme alla tesi di dottorato di mia madre.
\nC\u2019era solo un certo numero di cose \u2013 molto limitato-
\nche si potevano portare via in quei giorni
\ne io, bambina sciocca, mi rifiutai di partire
\nsenza i quadri della mia infanzia,
\ncos\u00ec presero i miei quadri, i libri e le foto
\ne tutti vennero dati ad un console olandese,
\npoich\u00e8 non si potevano prendere certe cose
\nnei primi tempi in cui gli ebrei russi
\nvenivano scambiati col grano;
\ne in questo modo i quadri della mia infanzia
\nprevalsero sulle medaglie.<\/p>\n
\nquando venti membri della tua famiglia
\nsono stati macellati come animali?\u201d)<\/p>\n
\ndiceva mio padre,
\ne concordava con Primo Levi;
\nforse \u00e8 per questo che non mostrava mai le proprie medaglie,
\nnon diceva mai di essere un veterano,
\nnon partecipava mai a una parata
\nn\u00e9 fece mai parte di un gruppo di veterani;
\nnon si uccise come Primo Levi,
\nnon parlava di guerra,
\nma i suoi pensieri mi sono stati tramandati
\ncome una memoria silenziosa,
\ne forse \u00e8 per questo che talvolta ricordo
\ncose che non ho mai vissuto personalmente.
\n
\n\u041f\u0435\u0440\u0435\u0432\u0435\u043b \u0441 \u0430\u043d\u0433\u043b\u0438\u0439\u0441\u043a\u043e\u0433\u043e \u043d\u0430 \u0438\u0442\u0430\u043b\u044c\u044f\u043d\u0441\u043a\u0438\u0439 \u041c\u0430\u0440\u043a\u043e \u041f\u0440\u0430\u0434\u0435\u0440\u0438\u043e<\/em>
\n
\n * * *
\n
\nINCANTATION<\/p>\n
\n that never ceases, and not
\nAs spoken words are—
\n arrogant and gaudy.
\nHide me in an artless language
\n of sleeping truths
\nin an unscattered mind.
\n Let the unsaid shield us
\namid tinsel phrases.
\n Poised rocks of silence,
\nKeep us.
\n <\/p>\n
\nche non cessa mai, e non
\ncome sono le parole dette — —
\narroganti ed eccessive.
\nNascondimi in un linguaggio naturale
\ndi verit\u00e0 assopite
\nin una mente acuta.
\nCi difenda ci\u00f2 che non viene detto
\nin mezzo a frasi artificiali.
\nRocce sospese del silenzio
\nreggeteci.
\n
\n\u041f\u0435\u0440\u0435\u0432\u0435\u043b \u0441 \u0430\u043d\u0433\u043b\u0438\u0439\u0441\u043a\u043e\u0433\u043e \u043d\u0430 \u0438\u0442\u0430\u043b\u044c\u044f\u043d\u0441\u043a\u0438\u0439 \u041c\u0430\u0440\u043a\u043e \u041f\u0440\u0430\u0434\u0435\u0440\u0438\u043e<\/em><\/p>\n
\na loaf of coarse bread,
\na simple shelter from the rain,
\nthese are all you need,
\nso the light of the Aldebaran
\ndoesn’t blind you before you are ready,
\nbefore you learn all the ways
\nin which your fate is welded to the stars
\nto make forgotten predictions come true,
\nonly then will the lilies and the Phoenician wine
\nand the moon-colored poppies
\nrise like stars to the sky
\nwhich remembers names you’ve forgotten.
\n <\/p>\n
\nuna pagnotta di pane rustico,
\nun riparo semplice per la pioggia;
\nquesto \u00e8 tutto quello di cui hai bisogno,
\ncos\u00ec che la luce dell\u2019Aldebaran
\nnon ti accechi prima che tu sia pronto,
\nprima che tu conosca tutti i modi
\nin cui il tuo destino \u00e8 legato alle stelle,
\nperch\u00e8 si avverino le predizioni dimenticate;
\nsolo allora i gigli e il vino fenicio
\ne i papaveri colorati dalla luna
\nsaliranno come stelle verso il Cielo
\nche ricorda i nomi che hai dimenticato.
\n <\/p>\n