Amy Lowell, still.

Ricordate il precedente post su Amy Lowell? In esso sottolineavo come le sue poesie siano così pervasive, pur essendo così semplici.
Quella che pubblico ora non sfugge a questa caratteristica.

I've always published a poem by Amy Lowell. In that post I punctuated how much her poems were pervasive, being, at the same time, so simple.
The poem I'm publishing now doesn't escape this characteristic.

The Taxi
by Amy Lowell

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

The Taxy
di Amy Lowell

Quando vado via da te
Il mondo suona a morto
Come un molle tamburo.
Ti chiamo a gran voce contro le aggettanti stelle
Ed urlo contro i crinali del vento.
Strade contro di me veloci,
Una dopo l'altra,
Ti levano via da me,
E le luci della città mi pungono gli occhi
Così da non vedere più il tuo viso.
Perchè mai dovrei lasciarti,
Per ferire me stessa contro gli angoli acuti della notte?

Traduzione di Ipazia

Dedicated to Jago, who loves Mark Strand

KEEPING THINGS WHOLE

BY MARK STRAND

In a field

I am the absence

of field.

This is

always the case.

I am what is missing.

When I walk

I part the air

and always

the air moves in

to fill the spaces

where my body's been.

We all have reasons

for moving.

I move

to keep things whole.

Why don't you come back?

Why don't you come back
from the fog you're living in
the eighty-nine clouds
are waiting for you
and there's the ninetieth
in particular
that's waiting for you
writing a story.

Ipazia