A Sharp Silence: poem to my Muse

Un sasso tondo, levigato,
colto e scagliato con un gesto d’ira
che mi avrebbe colpito in piena fronte,
non questo silenzio acuminato
dritto nel cuore senza sparger sangue.
~Marcello Comitini

Roughly, (and very ineptly) translated–

A round stone, polished,
picked and hurled in a gesture of ire
which would’ve hit me square on the brow,
not this sharp silence
straight to the heart without shedding blood.

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  1. Angela Brown

    There's something haunting about the silence mentioned in this point…that sort of thing that usually relished yet, in this moment, is a painful thing.

    Beautiful. Thank you for translating this.

  2. Damyanti

    Thanks, Rosalind, do you speak Italian?

    Mina– well, when it is your Muse, you'd rather not have silence at any cost 🙂

    Thanks Miranda. I'll def be using that Weed sentence.

    Al, thanks. Yes, it is Italian, which I speak, but am still learning.

    Misha, thanks. Yep, the meaning came across, but the Italian is infinitely more beautiful when read.

    Tonja, I'd rather not have silence from my Muse, or from anyone I love.

    Stephen, it is the wounds that don't bleed that hurt the most, especially wounds in the heart.

  3. Al Penwasser

    I don't think it was ineptly translated. This was a beautiful poem. Although I bet the Italian (it was Italian, wasn't it?) was very good as well.