221

  

Quando tu sarai vecchia, tentennante

tra fuoco e veglia prendi questo libro,

leggilo senza fretta e sogna la dolcezza

dei tuoi occhi d’un tempo e le loro 

ombre.

Quanti hanno amato la tua dolce grazia di allora e la bellezza di un vero o falso amore.

Ma uno solo ha amato l’anima tua pellegrina

e la tortura del tuo trascolorante volto.

Cùrvati dunque su questa tua griglia di brace e di’ a te stessa a bassa voce Amore

ecco come tu fuggi alto sulle montagne

e nascondi il tuo pianto in uno sciame di stelle.
(traduzione di Eugenio Montale)
When you are old and gray and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face among a crowd of stars.

William Butler Yeats 

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This entry was published on August 9, 2015 at 7:09 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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