Read e-book online A selection of modern Italian poetry in translation PDF

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By Roberta L. Payne

ISBN-10: 077352696X

ISBN-13: 9780773526969

ISBN-10: 0773526978

ISBN-13: 9780773526976

ISBN-10: 0773571841

ISBN-13: 9780773571846

Offers a bilingual choice of ninety-two poems via thirty-five Italian poets, together with works of classicism and passionate decadentism, examples of crepuscularism

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Extra resources for A selection of modern Italian poetry in translation

Example text

And it’s raining on your lashes, Hermione. It’s raining on your black lashes as if you were crying but with joy; not white but almost become green you seem to grow out from bark. And all of life in us is freshsmelling, our hearts within us like an untouched peach, between their lids our eyes like little springs beneath the grass, our teeth within their gums like unripe almonds. And we go through thickets of brake, now joined together and now apart (and the rude green vigor twines around our ankle bones twines around our knees), who knows where, who knows where!

La pioggia cade su la solitaria verdura con un crepitìo che dura e varia nell’aria secondo le fronde più rade, men rade. Ascolta. Risponde al pianto il canto delle cicale che il pianto australe non impaura, nè il ciel cinerino. E il pino ha un suono, e il mirto altro suono, e il ginepro altro ancòra, stromenti diversi 20 g ab r i el e d’ a n n un zio scaly, bristling pines, it’s raining on the divine myrtles, on the broom trees gleaming with their clumps of flowers, on the matty junipers and their sweet-smelling pips, it’s raining on our sylvan faces, it’s raining on our bare hands, on our thin clothes, on the fresh thoughts which the mind uncovers in her new freshness, on the lovely fable that yesterday enchanted you, and today enchants me, O Hermione.

Vedi che io non sono un poeta: sono un fanciullo triste che ha voglia di morire. 4 Oh, non maravigliarti della mia tristezza! E non domandarmi; io non saprei dirti che parole così vane, Dio mio, così vane, che mi verrebbe di piangere come se fossi per morire. Le mie lagrime avrebbero l’aria di sgranare un rosario di tristezza davanti alla mia anima sette volte dolente 34 serg io cor azzini Desolation of the Poor Sentimental Poet 1 Why do you call me a poet? I am not a poet. I am nothing but a little boy who is crying.

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A selection of modern Italian poetry in translation by Roberta L. Payne


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