Sergio Cerchi (Contemporary), Autumn I lean my body against the gate,lost in limitless thoughts,and I look at the autumn windblowing on red flowers. (Transl. by D. Foglia) Appoggio il mio corpo al cancelloperduta in pensieriche non hanno confinee guardo il vento d’autunnopassare sui fiori rossi. This is a personal translation. Please contact me if you know …
Yosano Akiko – Appoggio il mio corpo / I lean my body Read More »
Katsushika Hokusai, Young Woman with Origami, 1798 He rides his white charger by the Fortalice of Gold,she wanders in dreams amid the desert cloud and sand.It is a season of sorrow that she scarce can endure,thinking of her soldier lover at the border fort.The fireflies, flitting about, swarm at her window,while the moon slowly passes …
Li Bai (Li Po) – Tristezza d’autunno / By the Great Wall Read More »
Nicholas Roerich, Saint Panteleimon the healer, 1931 From an endless exile I endlessly come back, I turn to and blend with days, I go, further away from me, snipped on grass, meadows and October times and silences whispered by stars and mountains. (Transl. by D. Foglia) Da un eterno esilio eternamente ritorno e coi giorni …
Andrea Zanzotto – Da un eterno esilio / From an endless exile Read More »
Eliseu Visconti, Back to the trenches, c. 1917 I will remember this autumn beautiful and fleeing the migrant light that curves now as the reeds are being bowed by the wind. The floodwater in the canals has come up to my waist and, parched by the drought, I sank right in. At night in the …
Leonardo Sinisgalli – Mi ricorderò di questo autunno / I will remember this autumn Read More »
Piet Mondrian, Farm near Duivendrecht, c. 1916 Chi sia stato il primo, non è certo. Lo seguì un secondo, un terzo. Poi, uno dopo l’altro, tutti han preso la stessa via. Ora non c’è più nessuno. La mia casa é la sola abitata. Son vecchio. Che cosa mi trattengo a fare, quassù, dove tra breve …
John Everett Millais, Autumn leaves, 1856 Just as the colors of seasons change, so do the moods and thoughts of men. All in the world is but fickle time. And here is already the pallid, sepulchral Autumn, while just yesterday was reigning a flourishing, almost eternal, Summer. (Transl. by A. Baruffi) Come varia il colore …
Vincenzo Cardarelli – Tempo che muta / Times change Read More »
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