Steve Gilmartin & Montale
MISTRANSLATION
 

Lindau

The dinner dancers are transported,
like the grass which sticks to their clothes.
But three silver notes and the water,
dead in its glass, arrests them.
A torch releases bands of smoke, and dark
comes like a run of late betting.
Outside, the streets are alive with dance music
as thieves move through an unlit room
where everything has been memorized.

 

Lindau

La rondine vi porta
fili d’erba, non vuole che la vita passi.
Ma tra gli argini, a notte, l’acqua morta
logora i sassi.
Sotto le torce fumicose sbanda
sempre qualche ombra sulle prode vuote.
Nel cerchio della piazza una sarabanda
s’agita al mugghio dei battelli a ruote.

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