Journal of Italian Translation

Joseph Tusiani/Ugo Foscolo
in prompt obedience to the waiting chords,
she prods, inspired, every single note
till all of them depict how Harmony
first set in motion stars, ethereal waves,
and this earth floating on the ocean; how
with rays and shadows it broke then the wide
but uniform creation into thousands
of faces, quickly blended into one;
and how it joined each color with the sun,
and with the air each sound, and thus with time
and vexing fortune all vicissitudes,
so that, discordant though they be, all things
might render a concordant hymn to Heaven
lifting the human mind above the earth.
Just as when Eurus with his joyous breath
rouses the restless Larius at dawn,
and soon the boatman at that murmur sings
the nearing lutes rejoice, and languidly
the flutes of loving lads and nymphs reply
from wandering gondole: in the meantime
a little shepherd’s bagpipe from the shore
echoes once more; from hill to hill the horn
brings terror to the deer; from caves ablaze
Lecco’s bronze-taming hammer soon rebounds,
and, losing now his nets, the fisherman
listens, astounded, to the happy song:
so through our valleys does the melody,
roused by the harpsichord, so dearly sound
that, even when the harpsichordist rests,
the knolls around her still enraptured hear
Now bring to her, young virgins, laurel wreaths
and roses watered in the Pitti’s shades
by Etruscan Sylvans for the greater grace
of fair Etruscans’ youth-enamored breasts
ever desirous of new buds and charm:
baffled and sweetly tempted, foreigners
who our well–lighted theaters explore
are by the song’s voluptuousness so swayed,
so taken by that sweet desire of love
wandering sweetly on our women’s faces,
a whiff of flowers floating in the air
perturbs their hearts. And all together here,
dear maidens, bring the alabaster basins
wherein you keep the fresh but fleeting life
for mountain jasmine and for violet,
257