Franz Kafka

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Thursday, April 28, 2016

"Aprile," by Vincenzo Cardarelli; "April," by Vincenzo Cardarelli, English version, translated in English, "Aprile," by Vincenzo Cardarelli

Vincent van Gogh 's The White Orchard, April 1888
Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam



So many tired words
come to my mind
in this rainy day of April
when the barnyard is like a crushed cloud
or a flower that is spoiling.
Within a veil of rain
all is dressed like new.
The humid and dear earth
stings me and melts me away.
If your eyes are boggy and black
like hell,
then my sorrow is fresh
like a runlet.

 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.


Quante parole stanche
mi vengono alla mente
in questo giorno piovoso d'aprile
che l'aia è come nube che si spappola
o fior che si disfiora.
Dentro un velo di pioggia
tutto è vestito a nuovo.
L'umida e cara terra
mi punge e mi discioglie.
Se gli occhi tuoi son paludosi e neri
come l'inferno
il mio dolore è fresco
come un ruscello.

Vincenzo Cardarelli, da "Poesie," 1936

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