From: "scerir" <scerir@libero.it>, Fri, 5 Jan 2001
>Giuseppe Ungaretti (the poet) translated just
>40 Sonnets, superbly. But, I suppose, not that one.
I have much to learn still to pronounce Italian properly,
Serafino, but didn't this translation lose some of the rhyme
scheme of the original?
a >When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
b >and dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
a >thy youth's proud livery, so gaz'd on now,
b >will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held:
c >then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies,
d >where all the tresaure of thy lusty days,
c >to say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,
d >were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
e >How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use,
f >If thou couldst answer, "This fair child of mine
e >shall sum my count, and make my old excuse",
f >proving his beauty by succession thine!
g >This were to be new made when thou art old,
g >and see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.
??
>Quando quaranta inverni faranno assedio alla tua fronte
b >scavando trincee fonde nel campo della tua bellezza,
b >l'imponente livrea dell'ammirata giovinezza,
>sarý ridotta a uno straccio d'abito tenuto in poco conto:
c >se allora si chiedesse dove la tua bellezza giace,
d >dove tutto il tesoro dei giorni caldi di vigore,
c >dire: nei tuoi propri occhi infossati profondamente,
d >mostrerebbe con indiscreta lode, ingiuria implacabile.
e >Ma quale lode ispirerebbe la tua bellezza logora
>se tu potessi replicare: "Questo mio ragazzino
>assolverý il mio debito, scusabile farý ch'io invecchi",
e >la sua bellezza dimostrandosi, per successione, tua!
g >Sarebbe il tuo rinnovamento quando giý sarai vecchio,
g >vedresti il tuo sangue ardere quando giý ne sentirai il gelo.
(It's lyrical, anyway)
Amara
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