<\/p>\n
La linea
\nvaporosa muore
\nal lontano cerchio del cielo<\/p>\n
Picchi di tacchi picchi di mani
\ne il clarino ghirigori striduli
\ne il mare \u00e8 cenerino
\ntrema dolce inquieto
\ncome un piccione<\/p>\n
A poppa emigranti siriani ballano<\/p>\n
A prua un giovane \u00e8 solo<\/p>\n
Di sabato sera a quest\u2019ora
\nEbrei
\nlaggi\u00f9
\nportano via
\ni loro morti
\nnell\u2019imbuto di chiocciola
\ntentennamenti
\ndi vicoli
\ndi lumi<\/p>\n
Confusa acqua
\ncome il chiasso di poppa che odo
\ndentro l\u2019ombra
\ndel
\nsonno<\/p>\n
The vaporous
\nline dies
\nat the distant circle of the sky<\/p>\n
Heels clack hands clap
\nand the shrill arabesques of the clarinet
\nand the ashen sea
\ntrembling sweet and restless
\nas a pigeon<\/p>\n
Syrian emigrants dance at the stern<\/p>\n
A young man is alone at the prow<\/p>\n
On Saturday evening at this hour
\nJews
\ndown south
\ncarry off
\ntheir dead
\ninto the snail\u2019s funnel
\nwaverings
\nof alleyways
\nof lights<\/p>\n
Churning water
\nlike the racket from the stern that I hear
\nwithin the shadow
\nof
\nsleep<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Locvizza il 30 settembre 1916<\/span><\/p>\n Si chiamava Discendente Am\u00f2 la Francia Fu Marcel E non sapeva L\u2019ho accompagnato Riposa E forse io solo <\/p>\n His name was Descendant He loved France He was Marcel And he did not know how I accompanied his remains He rests And perhaps I alone TWO UNGARETTI\u00a0TRANSLATIONS LEVANTE by Giuseppe Ungaretti (1888-1970) La linea vaporosa muore al lontano cerchio del cielo Picchi di tacchi picchi di mani e il clarino ghirigori striduli e il mare \u00e8 cenerino trema dolce inquieto come un piccione A poppa emigranti siriani ballano A prua un giovane \u00e8 solo Di sabato sera a quest\u2019ora […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3755,"featured_media":0,"parent":284,"menu_order":10,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/202"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3755"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=202"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/202\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":240,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/202\/revisions\/240"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/284"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=202"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nMoammed Sceab<\/p>\n
\ndi emiri di nomadi
\nsuicida
\nperch\u00e9 non aveva pi\u00f9
\nPatria<\/p>\n
\ne mut\u00f2 nome<\/p>\n
\nma non era Francese
\ne non sapeva pi\u00f9
\nvivere
\nnella tenda dei suoi
\ndove si ascolta la cantilena
\ndel Corano
\ngustando un caff\u00e8<\/p>\n
\nsciogliere
\nil canto
\ndel suo abbandono<\/p>\n
\ninsieme alla padrona dell\u2019albergo
\ndove abitavamo
\na Parigi
\ndal numero 5 della rue des Carmes
\nappassito vicolo in discesa<\/p>\n
\nnel camposanto d\u2019Ivry
\nsobborgo che pare
\nsempre
\nin una giornata
\ndi una
\ndecomposta fiera<\/p>\n
\nso ancora
\nche visse<\/p>\nIN MEMORIAM<\/h2>\n
Translation by Dan Stone<\/h3>\n
Locvizza, September 30, 1916<\/h3>\n
\nMohammed Sheab<\/p>\n
\nof the emirs of nomads
\na suicide
\nbecause he had lost
\nhis Fatherland<\/p>\n
\nand changed his name<\/p>\n
\nbut he was not French
\nand he no longer knew
\nhow to live
\nunder the tent of his people
\nwhere one hears the incantations
\nof the Koran
\nwhile sipping coffee<\/p>\n
\nto release
\nthe song
\nof his abandonment<\/p>\n
\nwith the mistress of the hotel
\nwhere we lived
\nin Paris
\nfrom number 5 on rue des Carmes
\na wilted alley sloping downhill<\/p>\n
\nin the graveyard of Ivry
\na suburb that seems
\nalways
\non a day
\nthat a wild animal
\nis decomposing<\/p>\n
\nstill know
\nthat he lived<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"