Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Stefano Dal Bianco

Vigil

The road is paved,
black like the reflection of the earth around it
like the foliage of the trees
and like the large isolated boulders,
so much that if anyone were to walk on it uphill
they would not feel the effort
because their shoes and pants
would also be black
and walking would be only letting oneself
be absorbed by the rising blackness,
a going close to the stream
and its roar.

Thus I was lifted up
like a striped sweater
crossing the moonless night
and wavering.

And thus I spoke
because I wanted to bid farewell, or see you again,
as a form of salutation or thanks.

But I don’t very well know to whom, other than to the darkness
I may have said goodbye,
I’m leaving for the city,
nor to whom I have wished sleep,
other than to the darkness,
when I blew sleep,
sleep for me too,
and went away uplifted.

Vigilia

Vigilia

Il fondo della strada è asfaltato,
nero come il riflesso della terra intorno
come le chiome degli alberi
e come i grandi massi isolati,
tanto che chi camminasse nei tratti in salita
non sentirebbe lo sforzo
perché anche le scarpe e i pantaloni
sarebbero neri
e camminare soltanto un lasciarsi
assorbire nel nero che sale,
un andare vicino al torrente
e al suo frastuono.

Così sono stato sollevato,
come un maglione a strisce
che attraversasse la notte senza luna
e ondeggiasse.

E così ho parlato,
perché volevo dire addio, arrivederci,
per una forma di saluto e di ringraziamento.

Ma non so bene a chi, se non al buio
posso aver detto ti saluto,
parto per la città,
né a chi ho augurato di dormire,
se non al buio,
quando ho soffiato dormi,
dormi anche per me,
e me ne sono andato sollevato.
Close

Vigil

The road is paved,
black like the reflection of the earth around it
like the foliage of the trees
and like the large isolated boulders,
so much that if anyone were to walk on it uphill
they would not feel the effort
because their shoes and pants
would also be black
and walking would be only letting oneself
be absorbed by the rising blackness,
a going close to the stream
and its roar.

Thus I was lifted up
like a striped sweater
crossing the moonless night
and wavering.

And thus I spoke
because I wanted to bid farewell, or see you again,
as a form of salutation or thanks.

But I don’t very well know to whom, other than to the darkness
I may have said goodbye,
I’m leaving for the city,
nor to whom I have wished sleep,
other than to the darkness,
when I blew sleep,
sleep for me too,
and went away uplifted.

Vigil

The road is paved,
black like the reflection of the earth around it
like the foliage of the trees
and like the large isolated boulders,
so much that if anyone were to walk on it uphill
they would not feel the effort
because their shoes and pants
would also be black
and walking would be only letting oneself
be absorbed by the rising blackness,
a going close to the stream
and its roar.

Thus I was lifted up
like a striped sweater
crossing the moonless night
and wavering.

And thus I spoke
because I wanted to bid farewell, or see you again,
as a form of salutation or thanks.

But I don’t very well know to whom, other than to the darkness
I may have said goodbye,
I’m leaving for the city,
nor to whom I have wished sleep,
other than to the darkness,
when I blew sleep,
sleep for me too,
and went away uplifted.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère