Friday, March 30, 2012

EARTH ~





Salvatore Quasimodo
(1901-1968)




MARCH WIND (AFTER QUASIMODO)



I will know nothing of my life but its mysteries,
the dead cycles of the breath and sap.


I shall not know whom I loved, or love
now that in the random winds of March


I am nothing but my limbs. I fall
into myself, and the years numbered in me.


The thin blossom is already streaming from my boughs.
I watch the pure calm of its only flight.



trans. Don Paterson





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