Poem
Aldo Nove
UNFOLDING SPACE
The place where we are is not this one,equipped with all kinds of comfort,
distant. It’s never been
elsewhere, it’s neither here, nor now. It’s not a place.
And incessantly
it flows, heavily, you can feel it
as though coming from the inside
but which inside
it’s so strong, it screeches, it dies, and dies again,
it turns on one side, it tunes in,
finds identities in the flow
but doesn’t distinguish them, doesn’t find them,
it doesn’t tune in. It gets up, walks
around the room,
draws the margins
in its mind, outside the room there are others,
in each one of them, someone goes into the mountains,
he sees the sea, checks the time
but there is no more time, doesn’t see the sea,
it just
seemed
so strong and here it comes,
the slope of the mountains
declines,
the direct opposite,
misleading,
men crowding. It sits in the centre,
there is no more
present, no more
places.
Lo spazio spiegato
Lo spazio spiegato
Il posto dove siamo non è questofornito di ogni tipo di comfort
distanti. Non è altrove
da sempre e non è
presente. Non è un posto.
E ininterrottamente
scorre, pesante, si sente
come se giungesse da dentro,
ma quale, dentro
è fortissimo, stride e continua a morire,
si gira sul fianco, sintonizza
i canali, trova identità nel flusso
ma non le distingue, non le trova, non sintonizza
i canali. Si alza, cammina
nella stanza,
ne disegna i margini,
con la mente, fuori dalla stanza ce ne sono altre,
in ognuno ciascuno va sui monti,
ne vede il mare, controlla il tempo
che non c’è più, non vede il mare,
sembrava
soltanto
fortissimo e arriva, si spende
il declivio dei monti,
l’esatto contrario
apparente,
la gente. Si siede nel centro,
non c’è più
presente e
non ci sono più posti.
From: Addio mio novecento
Publisher: Einaudi, Torino
Publisher: Einaudi, Torino
Poems
Poems of Aldo Nove
Close
UNFOLDING SPACE
The place where we are is not this one,equipped with all kinds of comfort,
distant. It’s never been
elsewhere, it’s neither here, nor now. It’s not a place.
And incessantly
it flows, heavily, you can feel it
as though coming from the inside
but which inside
it’s so strong, it screeches, it dies, and dies again,
it turns on one side, it tunes in,
finds identities in the flow
but doesn’t distinguish them, doesn’t find them,
it doesn’t tune in. It gets up, walks
around the room,
draws the margins
in its mind, outside the room there are others,
in each one of them, someone goes into the mountains,
he sees the sea, checks the time
but there is no more time, doesn’t see the sea,
it just
seemed
so strong and here it comes,
the slope of the mountains
declines,
the direct opposite,
misleading,
men crowding. It sits in the centre,
there is no more
present, no more
places.
From: Addio mio novecento
UNFOLDING SPACE
The place where we are is not this one,equipped with all kinds of comfort,
distant. It’s never been
elsewhere, it’s neither here, nor now. It’s not a place.
And incessantly
it flows, heavily, you can feel it
as though coming from the inside
but which inside
it’s so strong, it screeches, it dies, and dies again,
it turns on one side, it tunes in,
finds identities in the flow
but doesn’t distinguish them, doesn’t find them,
it doesn’t tune in. It gets up, walks
around the room,
draws the margins
in its mind, outside the room there are others,
in each one of them, someone goes into the mountains,
he sees the sea, checks the time
but there is no more time, doesn’t see the sea,
it just
seemed
so strong and here it comes,
the slope of the mountains
declines,
the direct opposite,
misleading,
men crowding. It sits in the centre,
there is no more
present, no more
places.
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