Translator’s Note -These six poems are taken from Meno Universo where it was clear he uses textual constraints to enhance the impact of the poetry. In this collection, Cupani questions compassionately the meaning of existence. He searches deeply for an intrinsic rhythm and poetic touch: as if it were always on the borderline between poetry and prose but with poetry embedded in the prose. This was the challenge with my translation; his works appears to be simple but this belies the underlying level of complexity reflected in the textual constraints. This work reflects both the fatigue of relationships, and passage of life, but also the way in which his family and his daughter Emma brings a sort of epiphany, a time of grace and gift. The beauty of things done with simplicity, in the family nucleus, in the closed spaces. There is a spatial dimension to Cupani’s work reflected and stylistic mobility, blended with an experimental interlayer.
Translated from the Italian by Patrick Williamson
WE ARE WAITING FOR
crab crackers wonton
raviolini and shrimp curry
60-year old with broken heart seeks
friend for long walks on the beach
You flip through the flyer
for a new gym
And I don’t know Chinese but understand
that the voice from the stereo sings of the sweetness
of contemplating existence from below
__
AFTER THE POETRY EVENING
I’m embarrassed to smile
to have talked about death
while still alive
to spend a lot of time deciding between
a Chinotto and a beer while I try to
crash into the cone of a wave to
the famous poet
sitting at a far table
I’m embarrassed of the fingers
that could not write
of the voice that could be quiet
– Congratulations – Goodnight –
The car keys tinkle in
the pocket I pretended to
fish the truth out of
__
IN THE GRANDPARENTS’ LIVING ROOM
time went by non-stop
They stored the good cups
in the glass cupboard to use them again
The dust on the knick-knacks didn’t last
They said – next Christmas
They recited rosaries for the living
They left a few frames empty
for photos yet to be
taken
And sometimes they scolded their children
if they grew too fast –
The eldest will be twelve
this year
We’re already seventy, can you imagine –
Maybe in saying that they lingered without thinking
__
I LIKE THINGS WHEN THEY REMAIN NORMAL
at speeds much slower than the speed of light
I like the waves that remain waves
on the page of the sea and particles of bread
scattered on the tablecloth
I am ashamed because I am not a good physicist
I love the world as I would like the wave
to function only if it collapses
into this lion’s mouth on the path
wet with photons that for a minute at least
I’d like to call afternoon again
__
THE COST OF PRINTING IS SUCH
that very soon we will be publishing
our immortal verses on toilet paper
Don’t get me wrong: it’s also used
for blowing noses, catching insects,
dabbing blood when spilt,
fixing a smudge of cocoa
happiness on a child’s cheek
__
THE NIGHT HAS FOUND ITS STARS
The window that rained all day
has become a single little
white cloud above our pillow
–
Look
how
pretty –
I won’t
tell you
so not
to wake
you
__
0 Comments