Diego Valeri, 1887-1976, was an Italian poet, journalist, writer, scholar, critic, and translator of French and German literature. During his life, he authored 17 collections of poetry, 7 books of literary and art criticism, 5 books of creative and travel essays, including the best-selling A Sentimental Guide to Venice, and Venetian Fantasies, and literary translations from the German and French. Diego Valeri is fondly remembered as “the poet of Venice” for his love and dedication to the city in which he lived for almost all his life and that featured dominantly in his writing. The Diego Valeri Prize in Poetry is to this day a prestigious award in Italy, dedicated to the poet’s memory.
Forse, Un Giorno, Cosi’ Maybe Someday, This Way
Il canale si gonfia e si dilata; The canal swells and dilates,
soverchia a uno a uno it overwhelms one by one
i gradini d’approdo, si distende, the steps of the port, it distends
lucido, eguale, shiny, even,
su la riva di pietra e cresce e cresce. over a shore made of stone, and it grows
and it grows.
Forse, un giorno, sara’ cosi’ la fine Maybe someday, it will end this way,
Di questa favola d’acqua e di sasso. this tale of water and stone.
Inghiottita dal fango e dalle sabbie Swallowed by mud and soft sands
Molli, trasparira’ sotto una lastra she will shine through a sheet
Di cristallo verdino: lei che fu of green crystal: she who once was
lo splendore del mondo the world’s splendor,
Incantato miraggio enchanted mirage
Su l’inquieto deserto del mare; of the restless sea desert;
dolce morta, ora, now gently deceased,
supina nella luce supine in the light,
con tutti gli ori e i fuochi delle gemme with all the gold and flame of the gems
che un tempo la vestirono, that once dressed her,
Basilissa raggiante, troppo bella bright basilissa, too fair
Per durare nel tempo, to endure time,
fatta per esser morta. made to be dead.
Nato nel segno dell’Acquario Born in the sign of Aquarius
io vivo tra luminarie e riverberi d’acque, I live amid lights and reflections of water,
In un teatro di sfuggenti rive, in a theater of indefinite shores,
d’erti point, di celi e di canali of high bridges, of skies and canals
che l’un l’altro si specchiano. Somiglio that mirror each other. I resemble
un acquatico uccello appeso al nido, a waterbird perched on a nest,
e sono, acqua, il felice priogioniero and, water, I am gladly a prisoner
del tuo silenzio luminoso, e sono, of your luminous silence, and I myself am
io stesso, onda che viene, onda che va. wave that comes, wave that goes.
Riva di pena, canale d’oblio… Banks of Pain, Canals of Oblivion…
Ora è la grande ombra d’autunno: Now is the grand shadow of fall:
la fredda sera improvvisa calata when the cold night suddenly lowers
da tutto il cielo fumido oscuro from a sky turned a dark smoky pall
sull’acqua spenta, la pietra malata. over sick stone, over spent water.
Ora è l’angoscia dei lumi radi, Now is the gloom of dim lights,
gialli, sperduti per il nebbione, dispersed in the fog, yellow,
l’uno dall’altro staccati, lontani, detached from each other, remote,
chiuso ciascuno nel proprio alone. each sealed inside its own halo.
Riva di pena, canale d’oblio… Banks of pain, canals of oblivion…
Non una voce dentro il cuor morto. Not a voice inside the still heart.
Solo quegli urli straziati d’addio Only the harrowed cries of so long
dei bastimenti che lasciano il porto. of the cargo-ships that leave port.
Ho in cuore una città In my heart is a city
che nasce ogni giorno dal mare born every day from the sea,
e ogni sera nel mare si dissolve. and every night, in the sea she dissolves.
La luce e il vento The light and the breeze
son le sue forme e i suoi colori. are her forms and her colors.
Il suo silenzio e’ una musica Her silence is music
che s’e’ appena taciuta. just come to a close.
Fose l’ho vista una volta Maybe I saw her once
nello specchio di un sogno, mirrored inside a dream;
forse e’ una realta’ dove ho vissuto or else she’s a truth where I’ve lived
La mia favola d’uomo. my story of man.
A mezzo settembre si sente In mid-September we sense
Che la vita, con l’anno, se ne va. that life departs with the year.
Strano che agli occhi nostri tutto sembra Strange that to our eyes all seems
felice, in pace: happy, at peace:
tutto cio’ che e’ nostro, all that is ours,
di tutti i nostri giorni, il canale our every-day, the grey
grigio che svolta laggiu’ canal that bends over there
Sotto la casa rossa, beneath the red house,
Il ponte alto sospeso the bridge hanging high
In aria nella luce, l’alberata midair in the light, the treeline
che gia pare piu rada e dolcemente already sparse and gently
trascolora. Il volto del mondo discolored. The face of the world
Ora e’ piu bello, is more beautiful now,
d’una bellezza tutta umana, che un poco a beauty entirely human that weighs
ci pesa sul cuore. Perche’ si sente a bit on our hearts. Because we sense
che ogni cosa bella e amata e’ mortale; that all that is fair and beloved is mortal;
Perche e’ mezzo settembre Because it’s mid-September
e la vita con l’anno se ne va. and life, with the year, departs.
Laura Valeri
Laura Valeri is the author of three story collections and a book of essays. Her most recent books are After Life as a Human (Rain Chain Press, 2020) and The Dead Still Here, (SFASU Press 2018). Laura's stories, essays, and translations appear in numerous journals, including The Festival Review, Cagibi, PRISM, The Forge, Your Impossible Voice, Conjunctions, Waccamaw, South85, Assay, and others. Laura Valeri teaches creative writing at Georgia Southern University and she is the founding editor of Wraparound South, a literary journal.