			Alice \| Tin.it \| Foto album \| Disco remoto \| Community

Poetry by Carl Selph

Page 28

"Eterna lampa, non ti cangi? mai?
   Pur verrà dì che ne l'antiquo voto
Cadrai del nulla..."
                                --  Ugo Foscolo

The Balcony                                                                                                                                                              
(a translation of "Il Balcone" by Sandro Penna)

  
The boy entranced by far-off derring-do
in books is brought back by the droning song
of servants in the suburban houses---
the boring green of spring.
      
 
Vain blunderings on the sea.
                                           But the black
slow speculation of the seminarians
on the distant shore sketches---
again---vast fantasies of voyages.
      
 
Great gilded marble clouds sail out
above the monastery abandoned long ago.
From the cemetery, returning light,
a black car passes through the small-town streets.

Translation  © Carl Selph, 1999

Solitary Pines                                                                                                                                                 
(translation of an untitled lyric by Sandro Penna)

      

The solitary pines along the desolate
sea do not know of my love.
The wind awakens them, the sweet
rain kisses them, the distant
thunder lulls them to sleep.
But the solitary pines never know
of my love, of my joy.
Love of the earth, brimming uncomprehended
joy.  Oh, how far will you bear me!
One day the solitary pines will not see
(the rain licks them, the sun lulls them to sleep)
my death dancing with love.

Translation © Carl Selph, 1999

Serenade                                                                                                                                                              
(a translation of "La Serenata" by Sandro Penna)

O heavens delicate,
hear me before the dawn:
to live this lowly life
perhaps I was not born.
      
 
But heavens delicate,
(you're listening?) I sense
that tool so proud and damned
is of your provenance.
      
 
It's you who threw it down
to overflow our cup.
It must be you, because
it's always looking up.

Translation © Carl Selph, 1999

To the Sun                                                                                                                                          
(a translation of "Al Sole" by Ugo Foscolo)

At last you shine, O Sun,
O creation's life and soul, image sublime
Of God, who shed his infinite light
On the immensity of your face!  
Hours and seasons tinged with varied color
Dance in beauty by your golden light,
Measurer of centuries and of the centuries' flowing by.
At last you shine!  Rain clouds
Tempestuous and cold covered the earth;
In great whorls densely thronging clouds     
Ribbed the sky with bands of black,             
And rumbling throughout the breadth of the air
Terrible thunder rolled, and lightning bolts,
Flashes of lightning, broke the horrid dark.
Nature, affrighted, kept silent; the little stream,
Timid and lamenting, turned its course
Among the grasses, nor did the leaves
Rustle in the woods, nor from dark lairs
Did terrified beasts poke forth their heads.  
The winds howled, and devastating with hail,
With lightning strikes, with rains,
The tempest raged unleashed, and the rebel   
River flooded the fields with swollen,
Foaming waves, and uprooted trees
Creaked as they flew, and from crumbling
Brinks of steep, shaking crags plunged      
Torrents dragging enormous rocks
Through the waters.  From the depths
Of a cave I heard the warring                        
Of the elements, and at the cavern's mouth      
Death appeared to me, gigantic, and I saw
Him standing there:  his head came crashing
Down:  he showed me Nature's extermination.
In the sky, O Sun, you unveiled your face,
And the horrendous storm saw you
And hid itself away, and the fearful
Bristling spectres vanished...
But how many marks of mourning
Left, alas, by the rain-clouds on the widowed fields! 
Stripped of fruit, barren, and sad are the lovely trees
Once laden so heavily, and the unripe grapes,
Brimming promisers of joyous wine,
Lie on the ground; the herd treads them
As it passes; and stunned and mute,
The farmer contemplates them and groans.
Now disheveled, weeping Nature prays    
Again to you, O Sun, and greets your beams
Drying her tears; and you shine them down,
And she rejoices, promising new flowers 
And fruits.  All is changed!
Perished all things below, but never you;
Eternal lamp, do you not change?  ever?
And yet a day will come
When into the ancient void you will fall,
When God removes his gaze from you:
No longer will the clouds pay court at evening
To your setting rays over the ocean;
And no longer will dawn, girdled in your gleam,  
Come in the east to herald your rising.
For now, enjoy your course:  alas,
That I alone can take no joy from my youth,  
Alone I gaze on pleasure and on glory,
But dismal are the days for me, whose soul   
Is sorrowful.  In the morning of life
I have not yet aimed for the sun; and now, 
Weary, I have reached the eventide;
And I await only the night, that it cover me
With shadows and with death.

Translation © Carl Selph, 1999

All text on this page is copyrighted by Carl Selph and appears here by permission. All rights reserved. It may not be archived beyond one personal electronic copy for offline reading; such a copy must include the entire text of the present notice and the author's name. It may not be printed, posted on a web-site, distributed publicly or privately, used or quoted in whole or in part, or published in any manner or form whatsoever without the author's explicit permission. E-mail Wordreign to contact Carl Selph and your request will be promptly forwarded.

    Carl Selph Poetry Index                    Original Writing Page

E-mail Wordreign