heads for the mountains and discovers
he's quick on his old legs,
ears cocked for the call of native winds
trumpeting love, the stalking and the kill
o life not mine,
pain I carry into the nigh t from chaos,
suddenly you are yourself again
twisting in your chains under the load
To live alive like one who - no choice given–
faithfully serves: all, even the dark
immemorial beasts howling in us,
can be redeemed.
It
takes little-that little
cuts like a sword .
Translated from the Italian
by
Ned Condini
Mark Rudman
EVENTUAL CLAIMS
This light, I was thinking, is not natural.
And it had nothing to do with the pinks and grays
of the factories
flowing into the Hudson.
The truth under the froth of evening, under the night sky
which lowering we cannot see, under
the eventual claims of night,
under the sun's rim,
under the yellow letters on the red brick wall:
"Durable.lScrubbable.lResistant. "–
I should have thought
they would have added "Eternal." ..
