Giuseppe Ungaretti

“My Rivers”

I cling to this wounded tree
forsaken in this sinkhole
that feels as dull
as a circus
before or after the show
and I watch
the calm passage
of clouds across the moon

This morning I stretched out
in an urn of water
and like a relic
rested

The Isonzo as it flowed
polished me
like one of its stones

I lifted
my bones
and walked out

                translated by Geoffrey Brock