by Giuseppe Ungaretti
O sister of the shadow,
Nocturnal most as light is brightest,
Death, you do pursue me.
In a pure garden
The ingenuous longing brought you to light
And peace was lost,
Pensive death,
Upon your mouth.
From that moment
In the flow of mind I hear you,
Deepening the distances,
Suffering rival of the eternal.
Venomous mother of the ages,
In the terror of the throbbing
And the solitude,
Beauty punished, smiling,
In the drowsing of the flesh,
Dreamer fugitive,
Sleepless athlete
Of our greatness,
When you have tamed me, tell me:
In the melancholy of the living
Will my shadow’s flight be long?
[From La Morte Meditata, 1932]
Translated by Allen Mandelbaum