Old Winter Poem by Claire Roberts
Old Winter
Desire for your fair hands
In the half-light of the flame:
I learn of the bay oaks, of the roses;
Of death. Old winter.
The birds looked for the grain
And were suddenly in snow;
Like utterances.
A little sun, a shining angel,
And then the fog; and the trees
And we became air in the morning.
'Antico Inverno' translated from Italian by Salvatore Quasimodo.
Note: the literal translation of 'antico' is clearly ancient however, the English word 'old' is a better substitute here in order to maintain Salvatore Quasimodo's musicality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 6:32:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The Italian text: Antico inverno (by Salvatore Quasimodo) Desiderio delle tue mani chiare nella penombra della fiamma: sapevano di rovere e di rose; di morte. Antico inverno. Cercavano il miglio gli uccelli ed erano subito di neve; così 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 verse: sapevano di rovere e di rose; / di morte.. = Quasimodo, here, describes a feeling.. a scent / smell then you cant translate it I learn of the bay oaks, of the roses; / Of death... But I really appreciate your generous effort to translate this beautiful poem into English Ciao Fabrizio
A translation is never going to be overly literal; I am working with English. Thank you for including the original text.