lunedì 21 novembre 2016

Umberto Saba, "The Brute"


The Brute (Il violento)

Where's a higher, more human heart than mine
in the world, that my love embraces whole?
Deaths and ruins characterize my trail,
for ever, as far as the eye can reach.

There lifts itself my hand for a blessing,
and all, descending, it crushes 'n' squashes.
I come back to myself after love-hunting
longing for blood, furious with suspicion.

Who, walking, fears like me that any plant
may be stepped on by his foot---a little flower?
Then I cut throats, and rape, and create disasters.

One sole thing still preserves me to a life
so hateful: your very divine smell,
O humble holy abused creatures.