Journal of Italian Translation

296
Journal of Italian Translation
guage. This becomes especially important with Mariani’s poetry, for his
linguistic richness and his use of mythologies (old and new), when contrasted
with the English-language rendition, make for an exceptional exercise
in the whole process of translation, which entails more than just
conversion from one lexical term to its equivalent in another language..
Because Mariani’s cultural and historical references might escape the non-
Italian, Molino has rightly chosen to include a list of brief notes at the end
of the volume. One, however, could argue that his gloss is inconsistent in
its intent. For example, he includes an explanation of the city of Elea (in
the poem “Ombre dei martiri”), but does not mention the other city cited
along with it, Miletus. For that matter, if Elea needs a brief note, should
not the mention of the Cimmerians (in “Ephesus”) merit one, as well?
Molino’s endeavor, at any rate, is commendable. After all, Mariani’s
poetry speaks as much of antiquity as it does of contemporary society,
and is therefore replete with archaic terms as much as with unusual coinages
that reflect a man comfortable in moving between the two worlds.
The translator is forced to accommodate a whole range of polysemous
expressions, all the while paying mind to structures that equally betray
Mariani’s dual allegiances. In his afterword, Harrison notes Mariani’s “remoteness,”
which “is harbored in time and culture. It calls for archaeological
excavation, a critique of tradition. Like Janus bifrons, Mariani the
Roman has double vision, looking forward and backward” (p. 111). I would
argue further that Mariani is organic and yet isolated, like a man alone on
a cold planet (somewhere) making connections with humanity through
memories of even the most banal detail as well as through classical allusions.
For, what is an allusion but an ‘echo of memory’. For this reason, I
wonder if Mariani could be likened to Quasimodo in his own time; the
Quasimodo of Acque e terre, of Erato e Apòllion. Generally speaking,
Mariani’s verses are difficult and reveal a sort of hermetic quality (though
not necessarily in the political sense) of a Quasimodo or a Montale. However,
occasionally his sensibility for post-modern affect reveals itself in
lines of utter nonsense like: “Per lui / l’amo talvolta e l’ancora comunque
/ son superfetazioni” (“For him, / the hook, at times, and the anchor /
always, are superfetations.”).
Judging the quality of Molino’s translations is another matter. He
values fidelity to structure, verse length and nuance. For example, in
“Alfabeti della resa” (“Alphabets of Surrender”), Molino offers a clever
solution for imitating Mariani’s anaphora in the original. “Piú voci” (“Several
Voices”) serves as an example of attention to verse length: where
Mariani had left “sento” on a line of its own (without the optional subject
pronoun, “io”), Molino chose to mirror this in the English, even at the risk
of seeming grammatically awkward, with “felt.” His insistence works to
instill the same sense of quiet obliviousness ‘felt’ in pondering the “workings
of silence.” (This remains consistent with Molino’s ability to handle
verbal phrases quite well.) In terms of lexicon, Molino chooses to keep the