S’ode ancora il mare

It’s been many nights that the sea still sounds,
Lightly, up and down, along the smooth sands.
Echo of an enclosed voice in the mind,
that returns from time; and also this
gulls’ assiduous lament; perhaps
birds of the towers that April
drives towards the plain; already
you were near to me with that voice;
and I wish there might yet come to you
now, from me an echo of memory,
like that dark murmur of the sea.
Salvatore Quasimodo (Italy, 1901-1968)
From the collection Day after day (in Italian), Milano, Mondadori, 1947.
Translation by Slow Words

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