La notte bella. Poem by Giuseppe Ungaretti
19 agosto 1916
Quale canto
s’è levato stanotte
che intesse
di cristallina eco del cuore
le stelle
quale festa sorgiva
di cuore a nozze
sono stato
uno stagno
di buio
ora mordo
come un bambino la mamella
lo spazio
ora sono ubriaco
d’universo
August 19, 1916
What song arose tonight
weaving a tapestry
of stars
from the crystal echo of the heart
what upwelling feast
of a heart at wedding
I have been
a stagnant pool of darkness
Now I bite
into space
like a child his mother's breast.
Now I am drunk
on universe.
(English translation John Plant)
19 août 1916
Quel chant s’est élevé cette nuit
qui a tissé de l’écho cristallin du coeur
les étoiles
quelle fête surgissante
d’un coeur en noces
j’ai été un étang de tenèbres
Maintenants je mors
comme un bambin la mamelle
l’espace
maintenant je suis ivre
d’univers
(Traduction française: Jocelyne Fleury)
Canciones del alma. (San Juan de la Cruz)
I.
En una noche oscura
Con ansias en amores enflamada,
¡O dichosa ventura!
Salí sin ser notada
Estando ya mi casa sosegada.
II.
A oscuras, y segura
Por la segreta scala disfrazada
¡O dichosa ventura!
a oscuras, y en celada
estando ya mi casa sosegada.
III.
En la noche dichosa
En segreto, que nadie me veía,
Ni yo miraba cosa
Sin otra luz y guía
Sino la que en el corazon ardía.
IV.
Aquesta me guiaba
Mas cierto que la luz del mediodía
Adonde me esperaba
Quien yo bien me sabía
En parte donde nadie parecía.
V.
¡O noche que guiaste,
O noche mas amable que el alborada,
O noche que juntaste
Amado con amada,
Amada en el Amado transformada!
VI.
En mi pecho florído
Que entero para él solo se guardaba
Allí quedó dormido
Y yo le regalaba
Y el ventalle de los cedros aire daba.
VII.
El aire de la almena
Quando yo sus cabellos esparcía
Con su mano sereno
En mi cuello hería
Y todos mis sentidos suspendía.
VIII.
Quedéme y olvidéme,
El rostro recliné sobre el Amado.
Cesó todo, y dejéme,
Dejando mi cuidado
Entre las azucenas olvidado.
I.
In a dark night
burning with desire
-O fortunate adventure!-
I departed unnoticed
when the house was hushed.
II.
In darkness and in saftey
By the secret stairway, disguised,
-O fortunate advenutre!-
in darkness, in concealment,
when my house was hushed.
III.
In the blessed night
and in secret - for no one saw me-
and I saw nothing-
I had no light, no guide
save the light which burned in my heart.
IV.
But that light guided me
more surely than the light of noon
towards the one who was waiting for me,
-oh, well I knew who it was! -
in a place where no one could be.
V.
O night which guided me!
O night, more pleasant than dawn!
O night, which united
the Lover with his Beloved,
transforming the Beloved into the Lover!
VI.
On my flowering breast-
which I reserved for him alone-
he fell asleep
and I caressed him
and the rustling cedars fanned us.
VII.
The breeze upon the ramparts
as I caressed his hair-
with his gentle hand
he wounded my neck
and suspended all my senses.
VIII.
I departed from myself, I forgot myself
Resting my head upon the Beloved,
everything stopped, and I took leave of myself,
leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies.
Sonetto di Gaspara Stampa
Rimandatemi il cor, empio tiranno,
ch'a si gran torto avete ed istraziate
e di lui e di me quel proprio fate
che le tigri e i leon di cerva fanno.
Son passati otto giorni, a me un anno
ch'io non ho vostre lettere od imbasciate,
contra la fè che voi m'avete date,
o fonte di valor, conte, e d'inganno.
Credete ch'io sia Ercol o Sansone
a poeter sostener tanto dolore,
giovane e donna e fuor d'ogni ragione,
massime essendo qui senza 'l mio core
e senza voi a mia difensione
onde mi suol venir forza e vigore?
Send back my heart to me, wicked tyrant,
which so wrongly you possess and tear to pieces,
doing to it and to me the same thing
that tigers and lions do to deer.
Eight days have passed - to me a year
- in which I have had no letters or messages from you,
contrary to the promise you gave me,
O fount of valour, Count, and of deception?
Do you think I am Hercules or Samson,
to be able to sustain so much pain,
young, and a woman, and out of my mind,
and above all here without my heart,
and without you to defend me,
you, from whom my strength and vigor are wont to come?
- translated by John Plant
Invocation to Aphrodite (Sappho)
Poikilothron, athanat'Aphrodita,
Pai Dios doloploke, lissomai se,
me m'asaisi med'oniaisi damna,
potnia, thumon,
alla tuid' elth', ai pota katerota
tas emas audas aoisa, pelui
eklues, patros de domon lipoisa
chrusion elthes
arm'upadzeuksaisa. Kaloi de s'agon
okees struthoi peri gas melainas
pukna dinnentes pter' ap'oran'aithe-
ros dia messo.
Aipsa d'exikonto. Su d' O makaira,
mediaisais athanato' prosopo'
ere otti deute pepontha kotti
deute kalemmi,
kotti moi malista thelo genesthai
mainola thumon. Tina deute peitho
aps' agen es san philotata. Tis, s'O
Psaph', adikei?
Kai gar ai feugei, tacheos dioxei,
ai de dora me deket, alla dosei,
ai de me philei, tacheos phileisei
kouk etheloisa.
Elthe moi kai nun, chalepan de lusan
ek merimnan, ossa de moi telessai
thumos immerei, telesson, su d'auta
summachos esso.
Throned in many-hued glory, deathless Aphrodite,
child of Zeus, weaver of ruses, I beg you,
do not condemn my heart to pangs
and torments, O queen,
But come to me now, as once before,
hearing my cries, you came
from afar, leaving your father's
golden house,
Yoking your chariot, drawn by many beautiful
sparrows over the dark earth,
a multitude of fluttering wings descending
through middle air.
Quickly they came! And you, Glorious One,
with a smile playing on your deathless face,
you asked 'What has befallen you now? Why have you
summoned me again,
What is the deepest wish
of your troubled heart?Whom shall I persuade to return
to your friendship? Who, O Sappho,
is wronging you?
She may run from you now, but soon she will be in pursuit. Though she refuses your gifts, soon it will be she who offers them. And even if she loves you not, soon she will love,
even against her will.'
So come to me once again! Free me
from this woeful torment! Fulfill all the desires
of my mad heart, let them be accomplished! You yourself
be my companion in battle!
-translation by John Plant
Romance sonámbulo. Poem by Federico García Lorca
Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar
y el caballo en la montaña.
Con la sombra en la cintura
ella sueña en su baranda,
verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fría plata.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Bajo la luna gitana,
las cosas la están mirando
y ella no puede mirarlas.
*
Verde que te quiero verde.
Grandes estrellas de escarcha
vienen con el pez de sombra
que abre el camino del alba.
La higuera frota su viento
con la lija de sus ramas,
y el monte, gato garduño,
eriza sus pitas agrias.
Pero ¿quien viendrá? ¿y por donde?
Ella sigue en su baranda,
verde carne, pelo verde,
soñando en la mar amarga.
*
--Compadre,
quiero cambiar
mi caballo por su casa,
mi montura por su espejo,
mi cuchillo por su manta.
Compadre, vengo sangrando
desde los puertos de Cabra.
--Si yo pudiera, mocito,
este trato se cerraba.
Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es y a mi casa.
--Compadre, quiero morir
decentemente en mi cama.
De acero, se puede ser,
con las sábanas de holanda.
¿No ves la herida que tengo
desde el pecho a la garganta?
--Trescientas rosas morenas
lleva tu pechera blanca.
tu sangre rezuma y huele
alrededor de tu faja.
Pero yo ya no soy yo
Ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
--Dejadme subir al menos
hasta las altas barandas;
¡dejadme subir!, dejadme
hasta las verdes barandas.
Barandales de luna
por donde retumba el agua.
Ya suben los dos compadres
hacia las altas barandas.
Dejando un rastro de sangre
Dejando un rastro de lágrimas.
Temblaban en los tejados
farolillos de hojalata Mil panderos de cristal
herían la madrugada.
*
Verde que te quiero verde,
verde viento, verdes ramas.
Los dos compadres subieron.
El largo viento dejaba
en la boca un raro gusto
de hiel, de menta y de albahaca.
--¡Compadre! ¿Donde está, díme,
donde está tu niña amarga?
--¡Cuántas veces te esperó!
¡Cuántas veces te esperara,
cara fresca, negro pelo,
en este verde baranda!
*
Sobre el rostro de la aljibe
se mecía la gitana.
Verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fría plata.
Un carámbano de luna
la sostiene sobre el agua.
La noche se puso intimo
como una pequeña plaza.
Guardias civiles borrachos
en la puerta golpeaban.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar.
Y el caballo en la montaña.
Spanish text copyright 1991 by Herederos de Federico García Lorca.
Poem used by permission of Herederos de García Lorca.
Sleepwalking Ballad
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The boat on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With a shadow round her waist
she dreams on her roof-terrace,
green flesh, green hair,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon
things are looking at her,
and she cannot look at them.
*
Green, how I want you green.
Large stars of frost
arrive with the fish of shadow
which opens the path of dawn.
The fig-tree chafes its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the mountain, like a wildcat,
bristles its bitter cactus.
But who will come? And from where?
She continues on her terrace,
green flesh, green hair,
dreaming of the bitter sea.
*
“Friend, I want to trade
my horse for your house,
my saddle for your mirror,
my knife for your blanket.
Friend, I come bleeding
from the Cabra pass.”
“If I could do it, lad,
this deal would be done.
But I am no longer I,
and my house is no more my house.”
“Friend, I wish to die
decently in my bed.
Of metal, if it is possible,
with sheets of fine linen.
Do you not see this wound I have
from my chest to my throat?”
“Your white shirtfront bears
three hundred brown roses.
Your blood is oozing and reeking
around your sash.
But I am no longer I,
and my house is no more my house.”
“Let me climb, at least,
up to the high terraces.
Let me go up there! Let me go
to those green terraces!
Terraces of moon
where the water echoes.”
Now the two friends are climbing
to the high terraces.
Leaving a trail of blood.
Leaving a trail of tears.
Little tin-plated lanterns
trembled on the rooftops.
A thousand crystal tambourines
wounded the dawn.
*
Green, how I want you green,
green wind, green branches.
The two friends climbed.
The long wind
left a rare taste in the mouth
of gall, mint, and basil.
“Friend! Where, tell me,
where is your bitter girl?”
“How often she waited for you!
How often she would wait,
bright face, dark hair,
on this green terrace!
*
On the surface of the cistern
the gypsy girl swayed.
Green flesh, green hair,
eyes of cold silver.
An icicle of moon
suspends her over the water.
The night shrank to intimacy
like a little plaza.
Drunken civil guards
were pounding on the door.
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind, green branches.
The boat on the sea,
and the horse on the mountain.
-English translation by John Plant
Ballade somnambule
Vert, oh que je te désire vert.
Vent vert. Branches vertes.
Le bateau sur la mer
et le cheval dans la montagne.
Entourée d’ombre à la ceinture
elle rêve sur son balcon,
chair verte, cheveux verts,
yeux d’argent froid.
Vert, oh que je te désire vert.
Sous la lune gitane
les choses la regardent,
et elle ne peut les regarder.
*
Vert, oh que je te désire vert.
De grandes étoiles de givre
surgissent quand le poisson d’ombre
ouvre le chemin de l’aube.
Le figuier frotte son vent avec le
papier sablée de ses branches,
et la montagne, chat sauvage,
hérisse ses cactus amers.
Mais qui viendra? Et par où?
Elle ne cesse sur son balcon,
chair verte, cheveux verts,
de rêver à la mer amère.
*
--Ami, je veux echanger
mon cheval pour ta maison,
ma monture pour ton miroir,
mon couteau pour ta couverture.
Ami, je reviens couvert de sang
du col de Cabra.
--Si je le pouvais, mon garçon,
ce marché serait conclu.
Mais je ne suis plus moi-même
et ma maison n’est plus ma maison.
--Ami, je veux mourir
décemment dans mon lit.
En acier, si possible
bordé de draps de lin fin.
Ne vois-tu la blessure qui ouvre
ma poitrine jusqu’à la gorge?
--Ta chemise est percée
de trois cents roses brunes.
Ton sang suinte et fume
autour de ta ceinture.
Mais je ne suis plus qui je suis
et ma maison n'est plus ma maison.
-Laiisez-moi monter au moins
jusqu'aux balcons hauts.
Laissez-moi monter!
jusqu'aux verts balcons.
Balcons de lune
ou l'eau résonne.
Les deux amis montent alors
jusqu’aux balcons hauts.
Traçant un chemin de sang.
Traçcant un chemin de larmes.
De petites lanternes d’étain
tremblaient sur les toits.
Milles tambourines de cristal
poignardaient l’aube.
*
Vert, oh que je te désire vert,
vent vert, branches vertes.
Les deux amis montaient.
Un large vent
laissait dans la bouche un rare goût
de fiel, de menthe, et de basilic.
--Ami! dis-moi, où est-elle?
où est ta fille amère?
--Combien de fois elle t’a attendu!
Oh combien de fois!
Visage clair, cheveux noirs,
sur ce balcon vert!
*
Sur la surface de la citerne
la gitane se balançait.
Chair verte, cheveux verts,
yeux d’argent froid.
Un glaçon de lune
la suspend sur l’eau.
La nuit soudain devint intime
comme une toute petite place.
Des gardes civils ivres
cognaient à la porte.
Vert, oh que je te désire vert,
vent vert, branches vertes,
Le bateau sur la mer
et le cheval dans la montagne.
-Traduction française :
Jocelyne Fleury et John Plant
