The following poems are from Granatiero’s collection entitled Scúerzele or “Spoils/Remains” (Rome, Edizioni Cofine, 2002, with preface by Donato Valli and afterward by Achille Serrao) and are translated here by Cav. Charles Sant’Elia.
Vricce
Préte de mére, vriccia
lònghe e ttónne, l’allisce
aggiòcca ce allustrisce,
c’all’úecchie mije ce appicce
e nzacce s’è cchiú ttónne
o jèje cchiú a ppónda lisce
ma cèrte – assènza jónne –
cchiú pprónde ce vé fficce
pe ll’úrte de nu càlece
nd’u quagghie de la mòreje
nd’u mmedudde la càlece
che ngènne nd’la memòreje.
Pebble
Sea stone, pebble
oval, I smooth it
so that it shines,
so that it lights up to my eyes
and I don’t know if it is more round
o more dull pointed
but certainly – without a slingshot-
more ready to strike
with the impact of a kick
in the clot of the sludge
in the marrow of the lime
that burns in my memory.
Annatavanne
È l’anima straniera, sulla terra.
Georg Trakl
Óue jèje chése, u reggitte
de l’àneme? Da attàneme,
óue sò nnéte, mó spíerte
e ddemíerte, frustíere
retòrne, chi l’appure
chichédúne me sépe.
Óue mó stéche ne nzacce
se véche spatrejune
o stéche a stritte. Cèrte,
nesciune a mmè me cacce,
ma sènde ca l’assíette
sprefónne sótte i píete.
L’àneme nd’u tramóte
sté annatavanne, sóte.
Auméne pe nna sèrte
pembeduricchie i ssíerpe
assuche l’umme ngúerpe,
la péne che me sèrre.
Elsewhere
The soul is a stranger, on the earth.
Georg Trakl
Where is my home, the refuge
of the soul? By my father,
where I was born, now stray
and isolated, a foreigner
I return, who knows,
if somebody will recognize me.
Where I am now I don’t know
if I go without a destination
or I find myself pressed. Certainly
nobody chases me,
but I feel the foundation
sinking beneath my feet.
The soul in the earthquake
Is elsewhere, immobile.
At least with a wreath
Of black bryony berries
I wipe away the groaning inside me,
the pain that grips me.
