Poem
Umberto Fiori
Excavation
High up the cranes swing roundand down below there’s a criss-cross
traffic of sirens
but this hole
they’re making in the midst of houses
is like those dried-up streams in the country,
dead still.
The building site,
all of it now on view
from above, from the sixth, the seventh floor,
is a large extinct crater.
It’s frightening to see how much light,
how much wind it holds.
For months and months in this huge theatre
the shouting of measurements will be heard.
Then the whole emptiness on view
will have been covered in concrete and glass
and on some tiny balcony – someone still wanting to watch –
a towel will be flapping.
© Translation: 2009, Alistair Elliot
BOUWPUT
Hefkranen zwieren door de luchten op de grond krioelen de sirenes,
maar deze bouwput
die ze tussen de huizen graven
is net de drooggevallen bedding van een
rivier.
Het bouwterrein is
in zijn geheel gezien
vanaf de zesde, zevende verdieping
net een grote uitgewerkte krater.
’t Is angstwekkend om te zien hoeveel licht,
hoeveel wind hij bevat.
Maandenlang zal men in dit oneindige theater
de afmetingen horen brullen.
Daarna zullen cement en glas
de leegte van het podium bedekken,
en aan het hek van een balkon – wie wil er nu nog kijken? –
zal een handdoek wapperen.
© Vertaling: 2009, Ike Cialona
SCAVO
In alto girano le grue sotto è un viavai di sirene,
ma questo scavo
che fanno in mezzo alle case
sembra in campagna quei torrenti asciutti,
fermi.
Ora il terreno
visto tutto intero
da su, dal sesto, dal settimo piano,
è un grande cratere spento.
Fa paura vedere quanta luce,
quanto vento contiene.
Per mesi e mesi in questo teatro immenso
si sentiranno urlare le misure.
Poi tutto il vuoto della scena
cemento e vetro l’avranno coperto
e a un terrazzino – chi vorrà ancora guardare –
sventolerà un asciugamano.
© 1992, Umberto Fiori
From: Esempi
Publisher: Marcos y Marcos, Milan
From: Esempi
Publisher: Marcos y Marcos, Milan
Poems
Poems of Umberto Fiori
Close
Excavation
High up the cranes swing roundand down below there’s a criss-cross
traffic of sirens
but this hole
they’re making in the midst of houses
is like those dried-up streams in the country,
dead still.
The building site,
all of it now on view
from above, from the sixth, the seventh floor,
is a large extinct crater.
It’s frightening to see how much light,
how much wind it holds.
For months and months in this huge theatre
the shouting of measurements will be heard.
Then the whole emptiness on view
will have been covered in concrete and glass
and on some tiny balcony – someone still wanting to watch –
a towel will be flapping.
© 2009, Alistair Elliot
From: Esempi
From: Esempi
Excavation
High up the cranes swing roundand down below there’s a criss-cross
traffic of sirens
but this hole
they’re making in the midst of houses
is like those dried-up streams in the country,
dead still.
The building site,
all of it now on view
from above, from the sixth, the seventh floor,
is a large extinct crater.
It’s frightening to see how much light,
how much wind it holds.
For months and months in this huge theatre
the shouting of measurements will be heard.
Then the whole emptiness on view
will have been covered in concrete and glass
and on some tiny balcony – someone still wanting to watch –
a towel will be flapping.
© 2009, Alistair Elliot
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