Franz Kafka

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

"The Night Jasmine; Il Gelsomino Notturno," by Giovanni Pascoli. English translation, with original Italian text. "The Night Jasmine; Il Gelsomino Notturno," from the collection "Canti di Castelvecchio" (1903)


Giovanni Pascoli as a kid (on the right), with his father Ruggero and brothers Giacomo e Luigi

The following translation of "The Night Jasmine; Il Gelsomino Notturno," by Giovanni Pascoli, is from the book "The Poems of Giovanni Pascoli: Translated in English, with Original Italian Text," published by LiteraryJoint Press (2017). Also available as Amazon ebook (Free on Kindle Unlimited!)
 

       The Night Jasmine


 
   And the night flowers open up,
   the hour I think about my loved ones.
   Among the viburnum trees appeared
   the twilight butterflies.

   It's been a while already, since the cries subsided:
   over there a lone house whispers.
   Under the wings the nest is fast asleep,
   like eyes under eyelashes.

   From the open calyxes exudes
   the odor of red strawberries.
   Over there, in the sitting room a light shines.
   Grass is born on top of the graves.

   A late bee murmurs
   finding all taken the cells.
   (*) The hen-like constellation in the azure
   farmyard goes by with its chirping of stars.

   Over the entire night exudes
   the odor  that goes with the wind.
   It goes the light up the stairs;
   it flickers in the upper floor: it has gone off...

   Now it's dawn: a tad crumpled,
   the petals close; within the secret
   and soft receptacle is being conceived
   some new happiness still unknown.


(*) The stars cluster of the Pleiades in Italian is also nicknamed "Chioccetta" or "little broody hen."


 From the collection "Canti di Castelvecchio" (1903)

   

      Il Gelsomino Notturno


    E s’aprono i fiori notturni,
    nell’ora che penso ai miei cari.
    Sono apparse in mezzo ai viburni
    le farfalle crepuscolari.

    Da un pezzo si tacquero i gridi:
    là sola una casa bisbiglia.
    Sotto l’ali dormono i nidi,
    come gli occhi sotto le ciglia.

    Dai calici aperti si esala
    l’odore di fragole rosse.
    Splende un lume là nella sala.
    Nasce l’erba sopra le fosse.

    Un’ape tardiva sussurra
    trovando già prese le celle.
    La Chioccetta per l’aia azzurra
    va col suo pigolio di stelle.

    Per tutta la notte s’esala
    l’odore che passa col vento.
    Passa il lume su per la scala;
    brilla al primo piano: s’è spento...

    È l’alba: si chiudono i petali
    un poco gualciti; si cova,
    dentro l’urna molle e segreta,
    non so che felicità nuova.

    By Giovanni Pascoli, From the collection "Canti di Castelvecchio" (1903)
 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Check out the author's bookstore to browse and purchase both printed and e-book editions!