Montale's Elements # 17: Ode to a Mockingbird
Eugenio Montale | Poetry | Written June 18, 2022
Potere
simili a questi rami
ieri scarniti e nudi e oggi piene
di fremiti e di linfe,
sentire
noi pur domani tra i profumi e i venti
un riaffluir di sogni, un urger folle
di voci verso un esito; e nel sole
che v’investe, riviere,
rifiorire!
To be able —
like these branches
that yesterday were
emaciated and bare
and today are bursting
with quivering and sap —
for us too tomorrow
to feel
among the scents and breezes
a returning flow of dreams,
a mad urgency of voices
toward an outcome,
and in the sun
that clothes you, Riviera,
to flower once again.
Da “Riviere” / From “Riviera” by Eugenio Montale
All winter long
you deftly
staked your claim
of a strategic
ever-green bush
and sometimes chattered
with the sparrows
over the fence --
the other year-rounders
of the neighborhood.
And when the springtime
nesting frenzy
began, you kept
your grey-brown
pinstripe suit --
flashing your
white stripes
on your wings
and tail feathers
only when necessary.
Now that all
the temporary
home-makers
are on the scene
you are
the neighborhood
watch -- one member
sometimes joined
by his teammate.
Birds bigger than
the two of you are
easily driven off
by your dive-bombing,
and your chewks and churrs
are fearsome enough
to make anyone
back-off --
birds and humans alike.
But not all of
your calls
are fire and ice,
struggles
from a day
in the life.
When dusk falls,
you are the one
to recall
your comrades,
two-by-two
to the avian wing
of Noah's ark. In between
your recitation
of other birds' calls,
you string together
tunes that
are all your own --
some new varietal
you encountered
somewhere in the world
or in your head.
A way to recall,
but not end,
the day and the history
of its players.
You need both
repertoires --
you cannot live
just with one set or the other --
because there
will always be a need for
calls to fight,
as they're will always be
times when your song
can take flight.