Poem
Roberto Amato
I don’t want anyone to accompany me beyond the bridge
I don’t want anyone to accompany me beyond the bridge(where the last stair descends the water
and the gondoliers get lost)
I don’t want anyone to see what I see
and what is intended for me
possibly for a mistake the birds made
the pigeons watch me with a certain tenderness
(which you wouldn’t expect from them)
besides I wasn’t even the one they were waiting for:
I’m not even from these parts
I have no friends here
nor acquaintances
and have never entered a bakery
a poultry shop or any of those places for tourists
and yet
the birds
beckon me to follow them
and even slow their gambolling pace
so I won’t get lost
© Translation: 2017, Matilda Colarossi
Ik wil niet dat iemand met mij meeloopt voorbij de brug
Ik wil niet dat iemand met mij meeloopt voorbij de brug(waar de laatste traptrede verdwijnt in het water
en de gondeliers de weg kwijtraken)
ik wil niet dat iemand ziet wat ik zie
dat wat voor mij bedoeld is
misschien wel door een vergissing van de vogels
de duiven kijken naar mij met een soort tederheid
(je zou het niet van ze verwachten)
vooral omdat ze niet op mij wachten:
ik kom hier niet eens vandaan
ik heb hier geen vrienden
of kennissen
en nooit ben ik een bakker
of poelier binnengelopen of een van die kleine toeristenwinkeltjes
en toch
geven de vogels
mij een teken hen te volgen
ze houden zelfs hun huppelende pas in
zodat ik niet verdwaal
© Vertaling: 2017, Antoinette Sisto
Non voglio che nessuno mi accompagni oltre il ponte
(dove l’ultima scala scende l’acqua
e i gondolieri si perdono)
non voglio che nessuno veda quello che vedo io
e che mi è destinato
forse per uno sbaglio degli uccelli
i piccioni mi guardano con una certa dolcezza
(che non ti aspetteresti da loro)
oltretutto non era me che aspettavano:
io non sono nemmeno di qui
qui non ho amici
conoscenti
e non sono mai entrato in un panificio
in una polleria o in questi piccoli negozi per turisti
eppure
gli uccelli
mi fanno cenno di seguirli
rallentano perfino il loro passo saltellante
perché io non mi perda
(dove l’ultima scala scende l’acqua
e i gondolieri si perdono)
non voglio che nessuno veda quello che vedo io
e che mi è destinato
forse per uno sbaglio degli uccelli
i piccioni mi guardano con una certa dolcezza
(che non ti aspetteresti da loro)
oltretutto non era me che aspettavano:
io non sono nemmeno di qui
qui non ho amici
conoscenti
e non sono mai entrato in un panificio
in una polleria o in questi piccoli negozi per turisti
eppure
gli uccelli
mi fanno cenno di seguirli
rallentano perfino il loro passo saltellante
perché io non mi perda
From: L\'ACQUA ALTA
Publisher: Elliot, Rome
Publisher: Elliot, Rome
Poems
Poems of Roberto Amato
Close
I don’t want anyone to accompany me beyond the bridge
I don’t want anyone to accompany me beyond the bridge(where the last stair descends the water
and the gondoliers get lost)
I don’t want anyone to see what I see
and what is intended for me
possibly for a mistake the birds made
the pigeons watch me with a certain tenderness
(which you wouldn’t expect from them)
besides I wasn’t even the one they were waiting for:
I’m not even from these parts
I have no friends here
nor acquaintances
and have never entered a bakery
a poultry shop or any of those places for tourists
and yet
the birds
beckon me to follow them
and even slow their gambolling pace
so I won’t get lost
© 2017, Matilda Colarossi
From: L\'ACQUA ALTA
From: L\'ACQUA ALTA
I don’t want anyone to accompany me beyond the bridge
I don’t want anyone to accompany me beyond the bridge(where the last stair descends the water
and the gondoliers get lost)
I don’t want anyone to see what I see
and what is intended for me
possibly for a mistake the birds made
the pigeons watch me with a certain tenderness
(which you wouldn’t expect from them)
besides I wasn’t even the one they were waiting for:
I’m not even from these parts
I have no friends here
nor acquaintances
and have never entered a bakery
a poultry shop or any of those places for tourists
and yet
the birds
beckon me to follow them
and even slow their gambolling pace
so I won’t get lost
© 2017, Matilda Colarossi
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