The Fallen Oak
By Giovanni Pascoli
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click here to hear me reading the original in Italian
Click to hear me read the translation in English
Where shade once was, the oak tree in a sprawl
Of death no longer writhes against the wind.
The people say: I see now. It was tall!
Now here and there small nests of springtime find
Themselves dependent on a severed height.
The people say: I see now. It was kind!
The people praise. The people cut. Twilight
Comes and they haul their loads off. In the air
A cry...a cry of one young wren in flight
Seeking a nest that is no longer there.
The Original:
La Quercia Caduta
Dov’era l’ombra, or sé la quercia spande
morta, né più coi turbini tenzona.
La gente dice: Or vedo: era pur grande!
Pèndono qua e là dalla corona
i nidietti della primavera.
Dice la gente: Or vedo: era pur buona!
Ognuno loda, ognuno taglia. A sera
ognuno col suo grave fascio va.
Nell’aria, un pianto… d’una capinera
che cerca il nido che non troverà.
By Giovanni Pascoli
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click here to hear me reading the original in Italian
Click to hear me read the translation in English
Where shade once was, the oak tree in a sprawl
Of death no longer writhes against the wind.
The people say: I see now. It was tall!
Now here and there small nests of springtime find
Themselves dependent on a severed height.
The people say: I see now. It was kind!
The people praise. The people cut. Twilight
Comes and they haul their loads off. In the air
A cry...a cry of one young wren in flight
Seeking a nest that is no longer there.
The Original:
La Quercia Caduta
Dov’era l’ombra, or sé la quercia spande
morta, né più coi turbini tenzona.
La gente dice: Or vedo: era pur grande!
Pèndono qua e là dalla corona
i nidietti della primavera.
Dice la gente: Or vedo: era pur buona!
Ognuno loda, ognuno taglia. A sera
ognuno col suo grave fascio va.
Nell’aria, un pianto… d’una capinera
che cerca il nido che non troverà.
Posts
Holy shit, you have been working on that southern accent. It suits the overall pastoral feel of the poem. Not to mention you sound, ya know, hot. Just don't use your improved talent to say things like "you think my tractor's sexy" and we'll be alright.
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