Close to midnight.
Flies dying in a glass.
The fire has died out.
Fair Vida, there is
sorrow in your memory.
Stravinsky in a car.
The roaring of the sea.
Oh, to be alone for 5 minutes.
The heart-Trieste is ill.
That is why Trieste is beautiful.
Pain blossoms in beauty.
Notes
translated by Karanina Jerin
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Comments
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I like two lines of this piece, they speak more so than the rest of the translation, which are the second line and the last line. Actually those two lines alone could be a poem I feel.
It's a good piece translated here.
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