Poetry |

“Out Of The Fire” / “Fuori Dal Fuoco”

Out Of The Fire / Fuori Dal Fuoco

 

con passi che vorrebbero piantare

semi in una cadenza

vado a rendere alle foglie

l’albero che hanno perso,

alle piume cadute l’animale.

Poi incrocio le braccia

e il cuore torna in gabbia.

 

with footsteps that would like to plant

seeds in a cadence

I’m going to give back to the leaves

the tree they have lost,

to the fallen feathers the animal.

Then I cross my arms

and my heart returns to its cage.

 

*

 

bisogno di scavare

di nascondere le proprie ossa al cane.

Senza semi o promesse,

smarriti alle prime radici

tra le larve e le loro

carezze mai sazie.

 

a need to dig

to hide one’s bones from the dog.

Without seeds or promises,

mislaid at the first roots

between larvae and their

never sated caresses.

 

*

 

tutti credevano come un foglio

di essere quello che verrà scritto:

nell’umido che alleva libri

nelle tane dei copiatori

a raspare con la lingua

ritti sui propri scheletri.

 

they all believed like sheets of paper

they would be whatever is written:

in the moistness that raises books

inside the lairs of the copycats

rasping with their tongues

and standing upright on their own skeletons.

 

*

 

gonfiano le pagine orgogliosi

come uccelli la coda,

un libro per nascondersi la faccia.

 

the proud puff up the pages

like birds swelling their tails,

books to hide their faces.

 

 

*

 

tutto pulito

di voci nella stanza, carte cadute

occhi in cammino verso la finestra.

 

Cancellandosi all’istante

quello che vedi si descrive

lentamente si ritira

fuori dal fuoco.

 

everything cleansed

of voices in the room, fallen papers

eyes walking towards the window.

 

Erasing itself at the very moment

what you see is described

slowly withdraws

out of focus

out of the fire

 

 *

 

traduci il volo

del passero rimasto chiuso in casa

– a forza di battere è svanito

nell’onda più grande della tenda

nel pulsare di un’anta.

 

translate the flight

of the sparrow still locked in at home

—by force of beating its wings it has vanished

into the biggest wave of the awning

into the thumping shutter.

 

*

 

tra qualche ora torna

la geometria rituale

dei piatti che precedono i bicchieri.

Siedo e devo

posare le mie mani

mimare con la bocca

come pregando prima di dormire.

 

within a few hours returns

the ritual geometry

of dishes preceding the glasses.

I sit and have to

lay down my hands

mimic with my mouth

like praying before going to sleep.

 

*

 

respiro, passo il mio calore al nero

 

foro di serratura che vide

una volta soltanto

e si chiuse

 

ero un tronco tagliato

a ogni incontro, un Giuda

 

 

I breathe, I pass my warmth to the dark

 

keyhole that saw

only once

and closed

 

I was a felled trunk

at each rendezvous, a Judas

witness of the blaze.

 

*

 

orientandosi alla terra

come a un altro cielo

portata a compimento crollerà

la cattedrale della carne.

 

orienting itself toward the earth

as toward another heaven,

carried to term the cathedral

of the flesh will collapse.

 

*

 

nel circo dove addestrano gli affetti

entriamo solo in due, con tutti gli altri

svaniti in una doccia, fuoriusciti

come fumo dal fuoco.

 

in the circus where they drill affections

only the two of us enter, with all the others

vanishing into a shower, escaping

like fumes from the fire.

 

*

 

torni ad affondare qui

a colpi di reni

getti le fondamenta nella melma.

 

you return to sink in here

putting your back into it

lay the foundations in the mud.

 

*

 

oltre la fenditura vieni

sprofonda insieme agli altri

a nutrire la torba.

 

come beyond the cleft

sink in with the others

to feed the peat.

 

*

 

ho le braccia nel petto

come un’anatra sporca

covo, e la gioia dirama in rughe.

 

I tuck my arms against my chest

like a dirty duck,

I brood, and my joy spreads into wrinkles.

 

*

 

potrebbero non essere le mie

queste mani come mosche

che mi sfuggono. Le trovi

a posarsi sulla pelle

– una sola traiettoria –

scacciate ritornano

più sudice. Vive

le dovresti tenere in un barattolo.

 

they may not be mine

these hands like flies

fleeing from me. You find them

placing themselves on skin

—a single trajectory—

chased off they come back

filthier. You should keep them

alive in a jar.

 

Note: These poems, previously unpublished in English, were not included in the first edition of Franca Mancinelli’s Pasta madre (2013). They have been included in the new edition of Pasta madre, as published in her volume A un’ora di sono da qui (Italic Pequod, 2018).

Contributor
Franca Mancinelli

Franca Mancinelli was born in Fano, Italy in 1981. Her first two books of poetry, Mala kruna (2007) and Pasta madre (2013), were awarded several prizes in Italy and have now been republished together as A un’ora di sonno da qui (2018). A new collection of prose poems, Libretto di transito, has just been published by Bitter Oleander Press as The Little Book of Passage in John Taylor’s translation. It represents the first appearance in English of writing that has made Mancinelli one of the most compelling new voices in contemporary Italian literature.

Contributor
John Taylor

John Taylor is an American writer, critic, and translator who lives in France. Among his translations of French and Italian poetry are books by Philippe Jaccottet, Jacques Dupin, José-Flore Tappy, Pierre Voélin, Pierre Chappuis, Pierre-Albert Jourdan, Lorenzo Calogero, and Alfredo de Palchi. He is the author of several volumes of short prose and poetry, recently including The Dark Brightness, Grassy Stairways, and Remembrance of Water & Twenty-Five Trees.

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