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

Haze Upon Haze

In this grim deep pit of a skull
behind the naked brow there’s naught
and void ─ at most it is fraught
with the brain’s dust. And the receptacle
of thoughts and sensations strained
to give it pulp? There is no sump
to stir ana raise its merest lump:
no breath, no redolence. In this vein,
all passes by: name, memory,
image, what you were has died ─
like summer haze by noontide.
Haze upon haze, clots history:
its airs, presumptions, vanity,
depravations, carnage ─ pains all dried.
(Translated by Justin Vitiello)