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    AC Benus
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Translation Trashbin - 43. discorrevano il tuo fondo

.

Translation of

"Valmorbia"

by Eugenio Montale, circa 1917

 

 

"Valmorbia"

 

Valmorbia, discorrevano il tuo fondo

fioriti nuvoli di piante agli àsoli.

Nasceva in noi, volti dal cieco caso,

oblio del mondo.

 

Tacevano gli spari, nel grembo solitario

non dava suono che il Leno roco.

Sbocciava un razzo su lo stelo, fioco

lacrimava nell'aría.

 

Le notti chiare erano tutte un'alba

e portavano volpi alla mia grotta.

Valmorbia, un nome e ora nella scialba

memoria, terra dove non annotta.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------

 

"Valmorbia"

 

Valmorbia, your thick flowered clouds of plants on high
 
speak a breath of wind to your bottom lands.
 
Say, it's been left to us, by blind circumstances,
 
to face the world's oblivion.
 
 
Muffled were the gunshots in the solitary lap of depth
 
to grant no sound but that of the hoarse god of war.
 
Above, a rocket bloomed on a tall stem, dimly
 
weeping plaintively in the air.
 
 
The calm, clear nights all became the dawns of my discharge,
 
and they would drive forth the vixens into my dugout.
 
Valmorbia, a hollow name – now dulled in whitewashed
 
memory, a land with no sleep.

 

_

Copyright © 2018 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Another World War 1 poet brought to my attention by Lucy London, Great War historian and poet.

Montale's style is derived from Expressionism, but deals with issues on how to make the inherent melodiousness of Italian more spare in nature. In grappling with translating this poem, I've come to appreciate Montale's double or sometimes triple meanings of terms. Grotta is a good one. It means "cave" on surface appearances, but grotto indicates a natural structure, while grotta means a man-made one. In a military context, it means dugout.

Alba is another. On the surface it appears to speak of half-light (either at dawn or dusk), but in a military context means the day of one's discharge from active duty.

Incidentally, I found some stunningly beautiful same-sex love poetry from Montale. I'm looking forward to digging in  

Edited by AC Benus
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