Se bisogna essere più forti di se stessi quando si scrive
se bisogna essere più forti di ciò che si scrive
allora bisognerebbe comprendere quanto non sia
la forza: il centro, il fuoco, il bivio; allora
bisognerebbe considerare quella via
come la strada che non ha che sensi
in un verso, o nell’altro
da percorrere, senza riparo.
*
I
Sul treno ti penso come un uomo non collocato,
il segno che ignoro e subisco. Lo smarrimento
non è volontario, succede
quando mi sveglio e tutto deve ancora accadere
tu mi scrivi
un desiderio che abbiamo
già vissuto.
II
Stanotte gli ulivi sono nudi alla luna
un bacio ai mille tagli inferti—
è necessario, per rigenerarsi.
Vorrei scavare dentro il tuo sorriso
per vedere
l’origine della gioia che nascondi.
III
Febbre 35
ho un delirio psico-pubblicitario, amami.
Sapere qualcosa è combattere da dentro,
un movimento pulito che non lascia scampo
se resto fuori. Per distruggere la verticalità
ho bisogno delle tue mani.
IV
L’uomo disse: Lei sembra aver paura del lato visibile delle cose.
Ho paura, rispose la donna, come se qualcosa mi avesse colpita.
Per la perfezione? lui chiese.
No . . . per i suoi delitti, disse lei.
Esorcizziamo la morte dentro il letto della casa-ninfea
tu mi dici che il topo domestico non si suiciderà
io ti amo per la prima volta in una vita sbagliata.
V
Novembre, un anno dopo.
Il cielo non è più bianco del foglio,
è solo neve trattenuta, il ghiaccio
mi porti via dalle vene sottili.
Se provo a fuggire, mi perdo.
VI
Natale è la prossima mancanza che vivremo
/ Stephansplatz, un ricordo, o forse Schiele,
le mozartkugeln. Ho sognato
la tua lingua nella forma di linguaggio:
questo silenzio così forte che non smette di
possederci.
VII
La sonatina di Diabelli è un inverno infinito.
Ci tocchiamo da lontano / siamo
cieli scomposti nel quadro di Van Gogh.
Cerco un gesto affettuoso, come un cane
selvatico rifiuti la morte che ti vive. O amore
se non fosse per certe trasparenze
forse ti avrei pugnalato il cuore.
*
Trovare il tempo giusto per la scrittura:
non so scrivere quando
sto male
non so scrivere quando
sto bene.
C’è uno scarto nello stare: né prima,
né dopo.
Il tempo è un’idea dell’uomo:
io sono una donna.
Poemetto in Sol Minore
Pamela Proietti
Listen to the original read by the poet:
With many thanks to my co-translator María Santiago Rodriguez, I would like to share some thoughts on the process of translating Pamela Proietti’s poem “Poemetto in Sol Minore” from Italian into English.
Translation is a bit like chaperoning two people on a series of awkward first dates. The couple—the two languages—might be shy at first, but soon they start figuring each other out. If things go well and you do your job, they find their own secret ways of sharing. Then it becomes time for you to get out of the car, to ease the door shut so very quietly, to back away from the car, and to find your way home in the dark.
My favorite stretch of translating this poem was exploring how to render un delirio psico pubblicitario into English, a delirium that the author described as one that sells the self short of its poetry by making itself public. We considered incorporating the word “pitch” as what one does when one throws something: a ball, a rock or, in this case, the speaker throwing herself out of herself. Pitch black also connotes the darkest black imaginable. This moment in the poem is complex and deranged, since the psycho-public-delirium wants the speaker to do two diametrically opposed things at the same time: to stay in herself (where the poetry is) and to pitch herself out of where she needs to be to perform or publicize an escape that she knows will leave her hollow and lost. We hope that our translation captures some of this beautifully conflicted state of affairs.
As a translator, my views of the source text and the target language are in a state of constant flux. The languages back-translate and cross-energize one another. It is difficult to specify what is not in transit. The asymptote of this process is one of constant approach through a series of better, worse, and truly bad choices with no acceptable option for indecision. Along this arc, one finds a myriad of pitfalls and falsi amici (“false friends”) waiting to lure the translator down blind alleys. Along the wild paths between Italian and English there are countless examples of such poison mushrooms. An excellent safeguard against making bad decisions is to keep drafts of annotated translations moving between the translators and the author. We hope readers find this record of our journey rewarding.
Translation is a bit like chaperoning two people on a series of awkward first dates. The couple—the two languages—might be shy at first, but soon they start figuring each other out. If things go well and you do your job, they find their own secret ways of sharing. Then it becomes time for you to get out of the car, to ease the door shut so very quietly, to back away from the car, and to find your way home in the dark.
My favorite stretch of translating this poem was exploring how to render un delirio psico pubblicitario into English, a delirium that the author described as one that sells the self short of its poetry by making itself public. We considered incorporating the word “pitch” as what one does when one throws something: a ball, a rock or, in this case, the speaker throwing herself out of herself. Pitch black also connotes the darkest black imaginable. This moment in the poem is complex and deranged, since the psycho-public-delirium wants the speaker to do two diametrically opposed things at the same time: to stay in herself (where the poetry is) and to pitch herself out of where she needs to be to perform or publicize an escape that she knows will leave her hollow and lost. We hope that our translation captures some of this beautifully conflicted state of affairs.
As a translator, my views of the source text and the target language are in a state of constant flux. The languages back-translate and cross-energize one another. It is difficult to specify what is not in transit. The asymptote of this process is one of constant approach through a series of better, worse, and truly bad choices with no acceptable option for indecision. Along this arc, one finds a myriad of pitfalls and falsi amici (“false friends”) waiting to lure the translator down blind alleys. Along the wild paths between Italian and English there are countless examples of such poison mushrooms. An excellent safeguard against making bad decisions is to keep drafts of annotated translations moving between the translators and the author. We hope readers find this record of our journey rewarding.
—Stephen Eric Berry
Pamela Proietti released her first book of poetry Il nome bianco through Gattomerlino Edizioni (Rome, Italy) in 2021. Her work has appeared in Asymptote, Columbia Journal, Interim, La Repubblica (Italy), Belas Infiéis (Brazil), and in anthologies La nuova carne poetica, Vol.1 - della femmina intelligenza (PesaNerviPress, 2008) and Il mare è poesia (Edizioni Progetto Cultura, 2015). She has served as an editorial director at Metropolis Zero magazine where she oversaw the “Letters to the Director” section and wrote on the “Mind the Gap” page. Ms. Proietti collaborates with NiedernGasse magazine and the House of Ink cultural association. She lives in Rome, Italy.
Stephen Eric Berry is a writer, filmmaker, composer, and a recipient of a Jule and Avery Hopwood Award at the University of Michigan. His poems and translations have appeared in: Puerto del Sol, Tampa Review, Columbia Journal, Asymptote, The Mailer Review, Interim Poetics, and the Brazilian publications Belas Infíéis and Voz da Literatura. In 2017, he received a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities to be a visiting scholar at Amherst College. He just released The Children's Holiday, a film exploring the artwork of Detroit-area artist John Elkerr. To view the film, go here. He lives in Chelsea, Michigan (USA).
María Rodríguez Santiago is a native of Puerto Rico and a graduate of the University of Puerto Rico. She is currently an Italian Ph.D. student at the Department of Romance Languages and Literatures at the University of Michigan where she teaches several foreign languages. A Rackham Merit Fellow and a polyglot with proficiency in English, Spanish, French, and Italian, she lives in Westland, Michigan.
