Franz Kafka

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Saturday, August 29, 2015

"Idillio," by Vincenzo Cardarelli; "Idyll," by Vincenzo Cardarelli, English version, translated in English by LiteraryJoint

Vincent van Gogh, "Vineyards with a View of Auvers", oil on canvas, June 1890. The Saint Louis Art Museum, St. Louis, USA.


Through a shaded dirt track
between two walls of rusty stones
from which sunbathed grape leaves
sprouted up,
I saw one day, in Liguria,
(oh unexpected encounter!)
a young country girl
standing upright on the edge of her vineyard. 
Solitary was the path,
ardent the time of the day. 
She looked at me, and smiled,
the lassie.
And I told her, drawing near,
words that I heard rising
from the blood,
from my whole being, in praise
of her beauty.
Beneath the blush of her face beaded
with perspiration from her paused toil
her mouth was laughing brightly.
She was barefoot. A chip
of golden clay
dressed her feet accustomed to daily
bathing at the spring.
Her eyes, fiery and shiny,
were glimmering with youth,
shiny and profound.
And behind her, so earthy and splendid,
the well known and trusty shades
of the familiar grape tree
seemed to watch over her.
All was peace around
and rustic silence.

By Vincenzo Cardarelli, from the collection "Poesie," 1949. From "Vincenzo Cardarelli: The Forgotten amongst the Great. A Collection of the Best Poems by Vincenzo Cardarelli, Translated in English," available as e-book on Amazon Kindle, iPhone, iPad, or iPod touchon NOOK Bookon Koboand as printed, traditional edition through Lulu.


Per una stradetta ombreggiata
fra due muri di pietre rugginose
da cui spuntavano pampani
vidi un giorno, in Liguria,
(oh incontro inatteso!)
una giovane contadina
ritta sul limite del suo vigneto.
Era la via romita,
l'ora estuosa.
Mi guardò, mi sorrise,
la villanella.
Ed io le dissi, accostandomi,
parole che udivo salire
dal sangue,
da tutto il mio essere, in lode
di sua bellezza.
Sotto il rossore del volto imperlato
dall'interrotta fatica
la bocca sua rideva luminosa.
Era scalza. Una scaglia
d'argilla dorata
rivestiva i suoi piedi usi ai diurni
lavacri della fonte.
Gli occhi, infocati e lustri,
di gioventù brillavano,
solare e profonda.
E dietro a lei, così terrosa e splendida,
l'ombre cognite e fide
della domestica vite
parevan vigilarla.
Tutto era pace intorno
e silenzio agreste.

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