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

Autumn Sun

You Autumn sun,
that set on fire the glasspanes of the houses
as the evening spreads red across the sky,
you that smile at the balconies all wreathed
with small bouquets of shining ears of corn,
does this voice of bells exist for real,
do you hear it... or is this sound a daydream?
It’s an enchanted trill that calls my name
and makes me lose my strength and senses;
a cloud of incense now envelops me,
the times of long ago are here again:
my skin is smooth once more, and my hair
is curly as once was and black as pitch!
So many loved ones standing all around me!
...Where do they come from, how did they get here?
A pity that if you only look at them
a little closer, or slowly stretch your hands
and try to touch them...
only the evening light is left behind...
it quivers, and soon the sky turns into darkness!
Autumn sun,
the angel has gone by: