I soliti ignari

di Anna Maria Curci

Si accucciano
a schivare
la guancia offerta in sfida.

Si accalcano
a gridare
la loro utile resa.

Si accostano
al miracolo
zelanti nel diniego.

Versano lacrime
per gli zampognari,
abili il nato scansano,
ancora, i soliti ignari.

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Emily Dickinson [Morii per la Bellezza]

449

I died for Beauty – but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining Room –

He questioned softly “Why I failed”?
“For Beauty”, I replied –
“And I – for Truth – Themself are One –
We Bretheren, are”, He said –

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night –
We talked between the Rooms –
Until the Moss had reached our lips –
And covered up – our names –

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