Ecco la quinta e ultima poesia di “Dancing Birches. Part 5” assieme ad altre tre nuove sempre su Hemingway c,he fanno da appendice. Le precedenti le trovate scrivendo in alto a destra (lente d’ingrandimento) il nome dell’autore. [E. A.]
His house is now a museum. You can look,
but you can’t touch – photos, if you wish,
may be taken from cordoned doorways
or through open windows in this home
where he and Mary lived, where he wrote,
where they entertained movie stars and statesmen.
Pilar, his fishing boat, stands weathered,
high and dry, alongside the swimming pool
where Ava Gardner is said to have stroked
lengths, adorned with that famous sultry smile,
and so the rumour goes, nothing else.
Everywhere in Havana that Hemingway
ate or drank, worked or played, is remembered
by fresh generations of those he lived among
and loved with a fierce tenderness, people
who loved him back and love him still –
an American hero in a nation blockaded
by his own people -- this place he came to live in,
where he will never die, but be forever Papa,
a giant among the people who welcomed him,
who took him into their hearts,
not the man who also lived in Idaho
and hunted pheasants, who one day
took his shotgun out and wrote the end
to the story he spent a lifetime telling.
Quarta poesia di Glen Sorestad dedicata a Ernest Hemingway. Le precedenti qui,qui e qui . [E. A.]
Two Old Boys of Cojimar
When the two old fellows saw us approaching
they snapped to like wind-gusted flags.
The little fishing village just east of Havana
is best known as home of Santiago,
Hemingway’s heroic protagonist,who
spent two days and two nights adrift
far out on the Gulf, bound, will to will,
to a magnificent and gigantic marlin,
until he subdued the great fish, only to lose it
to marauding sharks before he could
bring his once-in-a-lifetime catch
home to the village as tangible proof.
Pubblico queste poesie che definirei “ecologiste” e di disarmante candore in segno di accoglienza verso una sensibilità poetica molto diversa da quelle più disincantate o addirittura ciniche che oggi danno il segno dominante alla cultura italiana in crisi. [E. A.]
Breakfast time May morning Sun shines bright outside Glittering jewels hang in a row All along the slide Glistening dewdrops on the grass Crystals sparkle on the swing The daisy chain made yesterday Shines like diamonds on a string
Gocce di rugiada
Mattina di maggio ora di colazione Il sole fuori splende sfavillante Gioielli brillanti pendono in fila Lungo l’intero scivolo Sull’erba gocce di rugiada luccicanti Cristalli scintillanti sull’altalena Le ghirlanda di margherite fatta ieri Splende come diamanti sopra un filo.