Monday, May 16, 2022



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)


translated by Jonathan Galassi

Everyman 2012