Journal of Italian Translation - Brooklyn College - Academic Home ...

Joseph Tusiani / Giosuè Carducci
and, drunken with destruction, they descended
into the cities, and in frightful eddies
they begged One on the cross with impious voices
to make them base.
Hail, O man’s spirit, calm on the Ilyssus’
shore, or unchanged and straight on the life-giving
banks of the Tiber! The dark days have vanished:
rise, then, and rule.
And you, O Mother Italy, holy mother
of bulls invincible in breaking furrows
and quickening fallow lands, and of colts neighing
fiercely in war;
mother of crops and vines and laws eternal
and arts sublime to make man’s life more blissful,
hail! I renew the songs of ancient glory
for you alone.
Hush! To my song green Umbria’s rills and forests
give their applause: before us, smoking, panting,
and speeding toward new industries, an engine
whistles along.
Fantasy
You speak; surrendering to the soft
breath of your voice, my spirit lets itself
be carried far by its caressing waves,
and sails for alien shores.
It sails within a warmth of dying light,
still smiling on cerulean solitudes:
white birds are flying between sea and sky,
green-blooming islands pass,
and from their lofty tops steep temples flash
with Parian whiteness in the rosy sunset,
and cypresses are quivering on the shore,
thick myrtles shed their scent.
161