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31 August 2011

Mr Genius

Translating two of my favorite poems of Eugenio Montale, the man who has "always knocked at the door of that wonderful and terrible enigma which is life."

I think of your smile, and it is for me like clear water
found adventurously among the rocks of a river bed,
small mirror from which you look an ivy and its corymbs;
and the peaceful embrace of a white sky above all.

This is my memory; I cold not tell, oh far,
if your face is an expression of a naive soul,
you are the wonder that soothes the evil of the world
and bears its pain like a talisman.

But this I can tell you, that your effigy
overwhelms my troubles in a calm wave, 
and that your looks creep into my gray memory
straight like the top of a young palm ...


 I stepped, offering my arm to you, at least one million stairs
and now that you're not there anymore there's void at each step.
Our juorney was short even in this way. 
Mine is still going on, I need no more
coincidences, reservations,
traps, the shame of those who believe 
that reality is what they see.

I stepped millions of stairs giving you my arm
 not just because eyes see more.
I stepped them with you because I knew that, between us,
the only true pupils, though so blurred,
were yours.

"Unfortunately, the genius does not speak with his lips. The genius leaves some paw prints like a snowshoe hare."

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