I Would Like to be a Bee (and other poems)

I’d like to be a bee and other poems, from Introduction to Italian Poetry

Torquato Tasso (1544-1595)

“Un’ape esser vorrei”
I’d like to be a bee

Un’ape esser vorrei,
Donna bella e crudele,
Che susurrando in voi suggese il mele

I’d like to be a bee, beautiful (and cruel) lady, who, murmuring, would suck the honey in you,

E, non potendo il cor, potesse almeno
Pungervi ‘l bianco seno

And, not being able to reach your heart, could at least, sting your white breast,

E ‘n si dolce ferita
Vendicata lasciar la propria vita.

And in so sweet a wound, leave my own life, avenged.

Gabriele D’Annunzio (1863-1938)

A selection from La pioggia nel pineto
(Rain in a pine wood)

Piove su le tue ciglia nere
Si che par tu pianga
Ma di piacere; non bianca
Ma quasi fatta virente,
Par da scorza tu esca.

Rain falls on your black eyelashes, so that you seem to weep, but from pleasure; not white, but made almost green, you seem to emerge from bark.

E tutta la vita ‘e in noi fresca
Aulente,
Il cuor nel petto ‘e come pesca
Intatta,

And within us all life is fresh – fragrant; The heart in our breasts is like a peach – untouched

Tra le palpebre gli occhi
son come polle tra l’erbe,
I denti negli alveoli
son come mandorle acerbe.

The eyes between eyelids, are like springs in the grass, the teeth in their sockets, are like bitter almonds.

E andiam di fratta in fratta,
Or congiunti or disciolti
(E il verde vigor rude
Ci allaccia i malleoli
C’intrica i ginocchi)
Chi sa dove, chi sa dove!

And we go from thicket to thicket, now joined, now apart, (And the rough green vigor, entwines our ankles, entangles our knees), Who knows where, who knows where!

E piove su i nostri volti
Silvani,
Piove su le nostre mani
Ignude,
Su i nostri vestimenti
Leggieri, anima schiude
Novella,

And rain falls on our faces – Sylvan; Rain falls on our hands – Naked; On our clothes – Light; On our fresh thoughts that our soul discloses – Renewed,

Su la favola bella
Che ieri
M’illuse, che oggi t’illude,
O Ermione.

On the lovely fable, that yesterday beguiled me, that today beguiles you, Oh, Hermione.

Giuseppe Ungaretti (1888-1970)

Veglia
Watch

Un’intera nottata
Buttato vicino
A un compagno
Massacrato

An entire night, thrown down beside a comrade, massacred

Con la sua bocca
Digrignata
Volta al plenilunio

With his mouth, snarling, turned toward the full moon

Con la congestione
Delle sue mani
Penetrata
Nel mio silenzio

With the congestion of his hands, penetrating, into my silence

Ho scritto
Lettere piene d’amore

I have written, letters full of love

Non sono mai stato
Tanto
Attaccato all vita

Cima Quattro, il 23 dicembre 1915

Never have I been so tied to life

Peak Four, December 23, 1915

Salvatore Quasimodo (1901-1968)

Antico Inverno
Ancient Winter

Desiderio delle tue mani chiare
Nella penombra della fiamma:
Sapevano di rovere e di rose;
di morte. Antico inverno.

Desire of your hands white, In the penumbra of the flame: They had the fragrance of oak and of roses; Of death. Ancient winter.

Cercavano il miglio gli uccelli
Ed erano subito di neve;
Cosi le parole:
Un po di sole, una raggera d’angelo,
E poi la nebbia; e gli alberi,
E noi fatti d’aria al mattino.

The birds were looking for millet, and were suddenly of snow; So with words: A bit of sun, an angel’s halo, And then the mist; and the trees, And ourselves made of air in the morning.