Poetry Tuesday: The Goat

By Umberto Saba of Italy, 1883-1957.

{BTW, this one is dedicated to Ally, but only because of the title.}

I had a conversation with a goat.
She was tied up, alone, in a field.
Full up with grass, wet
with rain, she was bleating.

The monotonous bleat was brother
to my own pain. And I replied in kind, at first
in jest, and then because pain is eternal
and speaks with one voice, unchanging.
This was the voice I heard
wailing in a lonely goat.

In a goat with a Semitic face
I heard the cry of every woe on Earth,
every life on earth.


Poetry Tuesday: Il Canto de Li Augei

Full title: Il Canto de Li Augei di Frunda in Frunda
By Matteo Maria Boiardo, 1441-1494, Italy

The song of birds which leap from leaf to leaf,
The scented breeze that runs from flower to flower,
The shining dew that glitters in each bower,
Rejoice our sight and banish thoughts of grief.
It is because she holds all nature in fief
Whose will is that the world shall live Love’s hour;
Sweet scents and songs–the Spring’s own magic power–
Each stream invade, each wind, each emerald sheaf.

Where’er she walks, she by her gaze enstarred
Brings warmth before due season in her arms;
Love’s kindled in her look and falls in showers;
At her sweet smile or at her sweet regard
The grass grows green and colors paint the flowers,
The sky is clear, the sea is locked in calms.