Franz Kafka

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Monday, November 4, 2019

"Novembre" (November) by Giovanni Pascoli, from the collection "Myricae" (1891)


Edvard Munch. A ploughed Field (‘Pløyemark‘), 1916 (private collection).

"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!)  and also on Kobo.


November



Gem-like is the air, so bright the sun
that you seek the blooms of the apricot,
and the bitter scent of the hawthorn
lingers in your heart.

But dried-up is the haw, and the scrawny boughs
weave black threads against the serene blue,
empty is the sky, and when stumped the earth
resounds as hollow.

Silence around: only, at the wind's gusts,
you hear afar, from gardens and orchards,
a frail falling of leaves. It is the cold
summer, of the dead.




Novembre



Gemmea l'aria, il sole così chiaro
che tu ricerchi gli albicocchi in fiore,
e del prunalbo l'odorino amaro
senti nel cuore…

  Ma secco è il pruno, e le stecchite piante
di nere trame segnano il sereno,
vuoto il cielo, e cavo al piè sonante
sembra il terreno.

  Silenzio, intorno: solo, alle ventate,
  odi lontano, da giardini ed orti,
  di foglie un cader fragile. È l'estate
  fredda, dei morti.


From the collection “Myricae” (1891-1900)

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