Poem
Davide Rondoni
YOU NEED PATIENCE IN LOVE
You need patience in loveand impatience, too,
light but leave
room for shadow, too.
The old pine knows this, tall, in the courtyard
who has seen through the windows
the strange installations of irons and ironing boards
posters fashionable till yesterday and has stopped
the flight of loves attracted by the void
and then has seen the glass open to the sun.
He knows, he has kept suspended
the changed voices of boys
and the looks given by women
alone smoking in windows.
You need patience in love
and fury, too,
the nice one of kids
who laugh and caper
if someone comes back
the races in the corridor, attracting attention
and that of the ancient pine which in the cold
and in the harsh silence of the city
exults and grasps its roots, hidden
like a wounded man his scars.
© Translation: 2003, Gabriele Poole
YOU NEED PATIENCE IN LOVE
Ci vuole pazienza nell’amore
e anche impazienza,
luce ma lasciare
spazio anche per l’ombra.
Lo sa il vecchio pino, alto, nel cortile
che ha veduto dalle finestre
le strane istallazioni di assi e ferri da stiro
i poster di moda fino a ieri e ha fermato
il volo di amori attratti al vuoto
e poi ha veduto vetri spalancarsi al sole.
Lo sa, ha tenuto sospese
le voci cambiate dei ragazzini
e le occhiate delle donne
sole a fumare alle finestre.
Ci vuole pazienza nell’amore
e anche furia,
quella bella dei bambini
che ridono e capriòlano
se torna qualcuno,
le corse in corridoio, farsi notare
e quella del pino antico che nel gelo
e nel duro silenzio della città
esulta e stringe le radici, nascoste
come un ferito le sue cicatrici.
e anche impazienza,
luce ma lasciare
spazio anche per l’ombra.
Lo sa il vecchio pino, alto, nel cortile
che ha veduto dalle finestre
le strane istallazioni di assi e ferri da stiro
i poster di moda fino a ieri e ha fermato
il volo di amori attratti al vuoto
e poi ha veduto vetri spalancarsi al sole.
Lo sa, ha tenuto sospese
le voci cambiate dei ragazzini
e le occhiate delle donne
sole a fumare alle finestre.
Ci vuole pazienza nell’amore
e anche furia,
quella bella dei bambini
che ridono e capriòlano
se torna qualcuno,
le corse in corridoio, farsi notare
e quella del pino antico che nel gelo
e nel duro silenzio della città
esulta e stringe le radici, nascoste
come un ferito le sue cicatrici.
© 2003, Davide Rondoni
From: Avrebbe amato chiunque
Publisher: Guanda, Milano
From: Avrebbe amato chiunque
Publisher: Guanda, Milano
Poems
Poems of Davide Rondoni
Close
YOU NEED PATIENCE IN LOVE
You need patience in loveand impatience, too,
light but leave
room for shadow, too.
The old pine knows this, tall, in the courtyard
who has seen through the windows
the strange installations of irons and ironing boards
posters fashionable till yesterday and has stopped
the flight of loves attracted by the void
and then has seen the glass open to the sun.
He knows, he has kept suspended
the changed voices of boys
and the looks given by women
alone smoking in windows.
You need patience in love
and fury, too,
the nice one of kids
who laugh and caper
if someone comes back
the races in the corridor, attracting attention
and that of the ancient pine which in the cold
and in the harsh silence of the city
exults and grasps its roots, hidden
like a wounded man his scars.
© 2003, Gabriele Poole
From: Avrebbe amato chiunque
From: Avrebbe amato chiunque
YOU NEED PATIENCE IN LOVE
You need patience in loveand impatience, too,
light but leave
room for shadow, too.
The old pine knows this, tall, in the courtyard
who has seen through the windows
the strange installations of irons and ironing boards
posters fashionable till yesterday and has stopped
the flight of loves attracted by the void
and then has seen the glass open to the sun.
He knows, he has kept suspended
the changed voices of boys
and the looks given by women
alone smoking in windows.
You need patience in love
and fury, too,
the nice one of kids
who laugh and caper
if someone comes back
the races in the corridor, attracting attention
and that of the ancient pine which in the cold
and in the harsh silence of the city
exults and grasps its roots, hidden
like a wounded man his scars.
© 2003, Gabriele Poole
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