Times at Bellosguardo
Oh now there in the glittering
stretch that bends toward the hills
the hum of evening lessens
and the trees chat with the hackneyed
murmur of the sand; and how this common life
no longer owned by our breath
gets channeled there, crystalline,
into orders of columns
and willows at the edges
and great moats in the gardens
by the overbrimming pools,
and how a sapphire light returns
for the men who live down there: it is too sad
such peace should enlighten in glimmers
and everything then roll on, with intermittent
flashes over the steaming riverbends,
with intersecting chimneys
and shouts from the hanging gardens
and consternation and long laughter
over patched roofs, among the arrases
of massed branches and a brilliant tail
that trails across the sky before
desire can find the words!
____________________
Eugenio Montale (1896-1981)
Poems
translated by Jonathan Galassi
Everyman 2012
