Father and Son No sound—a spell—on out where the wind went, our kite sent back its thrill along the string that sagged and sang and said, “I’m here! I’m here”—till broke somewhere, gone years ago, but sailed forever clear of earth. I hold—whatever tugs the other end—I hold that string. William Stafford from Stories That […]
Tag Archives: Giovanni Pascoli
Let’s Go Fly a Kite – Heaney and Pascoli – Part Two
September 5, 2014 – 8:34 pm
The Seamus Heaney translations of two poems by Giovanni Pascoli (1855 – 1912) published in the New Yorker after the death of Heaney (1938 – 2013) last August sent me scrambling to find out more about Heaney’s connection to Pascoli. I didn’t have far to go. Heaney discovered Pascoli in Urbino, Italy in 2002 and was […]
The Large Piccolo Cose (small things) of Giovanni Pascoli
September 5, 2014 – 7:19 pm
Washerwomen Out in a field half-fallow and half furrowed, A plough is standing, no oxen-team in sight, Forgotten looking, half-hid in a mist-cloud. From the mill-pond comes the wet slapping and surge And rhythmic rinsings of the washerwomen, Each splish-splash keeping time with their sing-song dirge: The wind is blowing, the bush is snowing, You’ve […]