3 Amelia Rosselli Translations by Roberta Antognini and Deborah Woodard

By , and | 7 May 2025


Courtesy of Casa Italiana Zerilli-Marimò, New York, NY.

Note

These translations appear in the collection Document, published by World Poetry Press in April 2025. They are reproduced here with the publisher’s permission.


I

Flanking the empty tree the ants’
tents seemed to remember what
madness it was to exist. They had rich
columns of substitutes flung out
in the itch of the virulent rind
like a godly god.

Outside I saw my every effort marking
itself with saliva at the game going badly
in green undulations.

Which forest of unsuspecting firs restored
my lost strength?

And sometimes they die on the treetops
the grim squirrels within the calibre of
a long tail; the thick grip of
proliferous arches and thorns hasn’t necessarily
any meaning. But I’ve also seen
the sacrifice of animals come in handy
and it’s not always beneficial to be a
maremma for the humiliated deer defeated by the
cold.

Questioning nature I saw only one
false step: that of the envious man
of maternal nature who castrating himself
obeyed primordial instincts. They
destroyed all sorts of placid occasions
at the meek vivification of life that crowning itself
with successes could no longer bear
the squalid vicissitudes of the exiled.
And they opened masks to such an involuntary
wish for peace on earth. What could it have been
this arid genius that put so many obstacles

in the way of a richer safeguard? Maybe
life is defeated and has no species resolved
to fight evil.

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