A front-light
One Winter evening
I saw a front-light at
Mount Savello,
shining in the fog.
It was an unexpected bus.
It was, that light, a
great promise
to a city of bums,
howling its own
struggles,
martyred by the
infamous war.
It was the future that
bloomed again
in thousands of beings
around myself,
desperate, concluded.
And solitary, I was
going,
saying to myself:
the day runs to the
evening
like life to death.
Now is close the
sunset.
And you will be able
to take refuge
in that night to which
no dawn follows.
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 touch, on NOOK Book, on Kobo, and as printed, traditional edition through Lulu.
Un fanale
In una sera d'inverno
vidi un fanale a Monte
Savello,
lucente nella nebbia.
Era un impensato
autobus.
Era, quel lume, una
grande promessa
per una città di
sbandati,
urlante i suoi
affanni,
martirizzata
dall'infame guerra.
Era il futuro che
rifioriva
in milioni di esseri
attorno a me
disperato, concluso.
Ed io solingo andavo,
dicendo a me stesso:
Il giorno corre alla
sera
come la vita alla morte.
Ora è vicino il
tramonto.
E tu potrai rifugiarti
in quella notte in cui
non segue l'alba.
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