Gli anni, le ore, che non t’avrebbero trovato

Elegia per mio padre
(Robert Strand 1908 -1968)

1 Il corpo vuoto
Le mani erano tue, le braccia erano tue, 
ma tu non c’eri.
Gli occhi erano tuoi, ma chiusi, e non si aprivano,
Il sole lontano c’era.
La luna sospesa sulla spalla bianca del colle c’era.
Il vento sul Bedford Basin c’era.
La luce verde tenue dell’inverno c’era.
La tua bocca c’era, 
ma tu non c’eri.
Quando qualcuno parlò, non vi fu risposta.
Nubi calarono
e seppellirono gli edifici sull’acqua,
e l’acqua fu muta.
I gabbiani guardavano.
Gli anni, le ore, che non t’avrebbero trovato
ruotavano ai polsi degli altri.
Non c’era il dolore. Se n’era andato.
Non c’erano i segreti. Non c’era nulla da dire.
L’ombra spargeva le sue ceneri.
Il corpo era tuo, ma tu non c’eri.
L’aria rabbrividiva sulla tua pelle.
Il buio si chinava nei suoi occhi.
Ma tu non c’eri.

Mark Strand

L'inizio di una sedia

a cura di Damiano Abeni

Donzelli editore 1999

Elegy for my father

1 The empty body

The hands were yours, the arms were yours,
But you were not there.
The eyes were yours, but they were closed and would not open.
The distant sun was there.
The moon poised on the hill's white shoulder was there.
The wind on Bedford Basin was there.
The pale green light of winter was there.
Your mouth was there,
But you were not there.
When somebody spoke, there was no answer.
Clouds came down
And buried the buildings along the water,
And the water was silent.
The gulls stared.
The years, the hours, that would not find you
Turned in the wrists of others.
There was no pain. It had gone.
There were no secrets. There was nothing to say.
The shade scattered its ashes.
The body was yours, but you were not there.
The air shivered against its skin.
The dark leaned into its eyes.
But you were not there.