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

I Counted Stars and Woes, Woes and Stars

When I am dead, come see me in Schisò
and on a night like this, in August,
when the screeching of the seagulls
pierces even the heart of the Moon.
The sea comes to the shore from very far
and takes long sighs like those of lovers hiding
beneath some sheets of silken algae
and while we’re listening, ahi, ahi, our foot
sinks in the sand
and we cannot escape
and for this reason we embrace, we hold
each other madly, and we fuse into one
exhausted we’re transfixed upon the sand
listening to the history of the sea.
And lamps meanwhile uncover hiding tuna.
When I am dead, come see me in Schisò
on a night like this, in August,
raise your pole high and give life back
to the spent eye of the wounded fish,
thrashing about upon the yellow shore,
staining the boiling foam with blood.
And lamps meanwhile uncover hiding tuna.