marcelo dughetti speaking with montale
let the boy come here
the one who joined together past figures
as a weaver from Rimini as somebody
who skillfully uses the bobbins
let him eat trout with me this roman night
they have already brought that old one we opened
only when joseph brodksy visited me
diminishing the lamps so you can
turn them up again past the windows
the running horizon and let it shine again
strange the light of the oil tanker
it is me an old poet all ears
and since I do not know who comes and goes
I want to hear what one of my sons says
I want to know him and to recognize him
although his voice is rough and rude
for my old taste at some point
because he knows the matter we are made of
where what once was is now
how much a patio weighs in our memory
let the awkward young rascal in
he who speaks only crossing the streets of the earth
long will our conversation be in this deserted hall
empty for so long
and if you hear him raise his voice do not worry
that is how young people speak
sometime ago I too pretested this way
angry with the passing of years of love and of hours
what is maddening is knowing that leaving is ultimately for the best
so that things still remain with us
let the boy get angry because by getting angry
he understands still better what the dust covers
what he says is what the day hides
let him suffer and cry and
when he can let him laugh
a poet’s laugh is a rare thing
the most precious thing in the world