Dialect Poetry of Southern Italy (Italian Poetry in Translation Book 2)

Bliss

Golden days of summer, facing the sun,
facing the sea, delighted, and content.
Days spent eavesdropping on the wind,
mindful of words whispered in secret.
Words I’d unravel; listening, alone,
for the voice of the world, the nothing beyond,
alone, while my nimble heart took flight
for untold trysts and destinations.
Perhaps for the very edge of the world,
where Our Lady of the Mariners
trims white roses in the morning.
And to find myself here, again, eyes
like a boy’s, quick and bright, seeing, upon
the lace of waves, roses ride to shore...
(Translated by Anthony Molino)