Canti lunatici

Ognuno sta solo sul cuor della terra
trafitto da un raggio di sole;
ed è sùbito sera.

Of cool sweet dew and radiance mild
The moon a web of silence weaves
In the still garden where a child
Gathers the simple salad leaves.

A moondew stars her hanging hair
And moonlight [kisses]1 her young brow
And, gathering she sings an air:
[Fair as the wave is, fair art thou!]2

Be mine, I pray, a waxen ear
To shield me from her childish croon,
And mine a shielded heart for her
Who gathers simples of the moon.

Welcome, precious stone of night,
Delight of the skies, precious sweet stone of the still night,
mother of stars, precious silent stone of the night skies,
Child reared by the Sun, precious simple stone of the silent night
Excellency of stars, precious stone of the night.

Cuando sale la luna
se pierden las campanas
y aparecen las sendas
impenetrables.

Cuando sale la luna,
el mar cubre la tierra
y el corazón se siente
isla en el infinito.

Nadie come naranjas
bajo la luna llena.
Es preciso comer
fruta verde y helada.

Cuando sale la luna
de cién rostros iguales,
la moneda de plata
solloza en el bolsillo.

Ein in sich gekehrter Mond
 [ ... ]

[ ... ]

The moon, like a flower
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.
[ ... ]

La luna vino a la fragua
con su polisón de nardos.
El niño la mira mira.
El niño la está mirando.

En el aire conmovido
mueve la luna sus brazos
y enseña, lúbrica y pura,
sus senos de duro estaño.

[ ... ]

Ein großes Mondtreffen ist anberaumt worden
 [ ... ]

Look down, fair moon and bathe this scene,
Pour softly down night's nimbus floods, on faces ghastly, swollen, purple;
On the dead, on their backs, with [their]1 arms toss'd wide,
Pour down your unstinted nimbus, sacred moon.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right
 [ ... ]

Ein Mond aus Blut
 [ ... ]

Amer au goût ce soir, jaloux
De quelle obscure poufiasse
caverneux, noir, chargé de crasses
Flottant entre la lune et nous.
Fielleuse lune sur la mer
Elle était la lune maussade
comme la pensée d'un malade
sur l'essence de l'univers
Dans l'obscurité Fabuleuse
Ou cette lune était montée
La placidité de l'été
Tendait ses ramures fumeuses.

I woke in the midsummer not-to-call night
  in the white and the walk of the morning:
The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe
  of a fingernail held to the candle,
Or paring of paradisaical fruit,
  lovely in waning but lustreless
Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow
  of dark Maenefa the mountain;
A cusp yet clasped him, a fluke yet fanged him
  entangled him, not quite utterly.
This was the prized, the desirable sight,
  unsought, presented so easily,
Parted me leaf and leaf, divided me
  eyelid and eyelid of slumber.

And, like a dying lady, lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The moon arose up in the murky East,
A white and shapeless mass...

[ ... ]

Finita è la notte
 [ ... ]