Giacomo Leoparditrans. Alan Marshfield
O graziosa luna, io mi rammento
che, or volge l’anno, sovra questo colle
io venia pien d’angoscia a rimirarti:
e tu pendevi allor su quella selva
siccome or fai, che tutta la rischiari.
Ma nebuloso e tremulo dal pianto
che mi sorgea sul ciglio, alle mie luci
il tuo volto apparia, che travagliosa
era mia vita: ed è, né cangia stile,
or mia diletta luna. E pur mi giova
la ricordanza, e il noverar l’etate
del mio dolore. Oh come grato occorre
nel tempo giovanil, quando ancor lungo
la speme e breve ha la memoria il corso,
il rimembrar delle passate cose,
ancor che triste, e che l’affanno duri!
Oh comely moon, tonight I am reminded
That twelve months gone I trod upon this hill
Racked to the heart, to gaze on you again.
Above the forest then brightly you loomed
As you do now, so everything was clear.
But mistily and tremulous with tears,
Which surged into my eyes until they brimmed,
Appeared your face, for travail without end
Was life to me, and is, and will not change,
Oh my beloved moon. And yet it soothes,
Recording thus and counting off my years
Of lamentation. For oh how pleasant is,
In youthful days - when still the course of hope
Runs far ahead and memory is brief -
The recollection of the things that were,
Although yet sad and still the pain endures.

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Trans. copyright © Alan Marshfield 2001

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